


The Bull in the Brambles

by ShotgunSugar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post Game ( I think)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8864863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShotgunSugar/pseuds/ShotgunSugar
Summary: Cullen recruits Iron Bull and his right hand man, Krem, to undertake an unsanctioned mission. They end up biting off more than they expect and bringing home a strange new companion, who Bull takes a liking to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [portal_penguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/portal_penguin/gifts).



Cullen looked over the letter one last time. His orders were clear. The tower was NOT his responsibility. The tower wasn’t even a priority; it was only “noted for further investigation”. Intelligence suspected that the crumbling old thing was recently taken over by a group of apostates or rebels, and should be investigated when possible. Cullen was to hand off the order to a knight-Captain who would then in turn hand it off to a scouting party. Cullen’s only duty in the matter was to make it someone else’s problem.

Still, even knowing this, Cullen held the letter. It would be easier, even more efficient, to not hand off the letter. To take a few templars himself and ride to the tower and clear it out. Bandits, apostates, blood mages, it didn’t matter, the tower would be cleared and no longer a threat. That’s all it would take, only a day’s journey, and some minor rule bending.

In fact, there was no evidence he even needed to take any soldiers from the Inquisition at all. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe he could take on the task alone, but he didn’t necessarily need official soldiers either. It would be much easier to grab some men without any official duties or holdings. Men like Iron Bull and his Chargers. Yes, this was perfect work for mercenaries.

Cullen bit at his lip and gave the matter more thought. His absence from Skyhold would not go unnoticed, but the Inquisition would hardly fall apart in a day’s time without him. Bull worked under the Inquisitor, as they all did, but he more or less had free reign of how he spent his time. No one, other than perhaps the serving girls at the Herald’s Rest, would notice he’d gone. Yes, Bull would do nicely. What’s more, Bull would enjoy the opportunity to blow off some steam and get his hands dirty.

Cullen wanted to convince himself that the right thing to do was to hand the letter down the chain of command. It was the right thing to do. But was it the best thing to do? What if the tower really was full of blood mages and demons, or worse, red lyrium? If the chain of command took too long to pull in the right direction, the tower occupants could really prove to be a problem. They could cost the lives of men that didn’t need to die. Men that would not be lost if the tower was dealt with now.

Cullen folded up the letter and laid it upon his desk. The matter should not be left to fester. He penned a hasty note to Bull.

_The Iron Bull,_

_I have some work if you have some time. Come to my office if you are interested_.

_Cullen_

Informal and to the point, and most importantly, it was sure to get Bull’s attention. Cullen sent it off with a runner and returned to his work.

Sure enough within the hour Bull was standing in Cullen’s office, arms crossed over his chest in a way that showed he was secretly pleased as punch to be there.

“So,” Bull began, scratching under his chin with his knuckles, “what’s this work you have for me and my boys? And uh…why isn’t it coming through the Inquisitor I wonder?”

“The Inquisitor…hasn’t issued this order to be carried out-at least not by us exactly-but I’ve done some examination of the mater and I’ve decided that it may be in the Inquisition’s best interest if this issue is handled quickly and privately.”

“So we’re picking up somebody else’s work? Without the Inquisitor knowing about it? Now this is getting interesting…” Bull clucked, with a grin. “What sort of dirty job could convince Commander Cullen to sneak around and break the rules I wonder?”

Cullen’s brow wrinkled in annoyance. “We aren’t breaking any rules precisely, the Inquisitor wants the job done, he just didn’t ask me to see to it _personally_. My choosing to handle the matter myself may be unusual, but it isn’t going against any protocols that are concerning. You should know I would never make such a brash call.”

“Alright alright, don’t go giving me a lecture on what a pillar of righteousness you are, we all know it by heart by now. So what is this job?”

“I am not a…anyways…You’re not very familiar with this area, so I’d imagine you’ve not heard of the Ereth Tower, just to the east of us.”

Bull sat himself in a chair and confirmed Cullen’s assumptions with a shake of his head.

Cullen cleared his throat and continued. “I thought not. Ereth Tower is half a day’s ride to the east from here. It’s practically ancient so we had assumed that no one would be foolish enough to take up residence, but the latest reports from our scouts have noted activity there. No one has yet bothered to discover just who has moved in, but I’m fairly confident in my assessment that our new neighbors aren’t the friendly sort.”

“So we’re not sure who or what is in the tower, but you don’t want to waste time trying to see if the scouts can figure it out. Better to just knock on their door and introduce ourselves.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Fine by me. Maybe not the most thought out plan, but it’ll be quick. When do you wanna move on this?”

“Now. If we ride out now we can be there before nightfall.”

“Thinking we can catch them in the dusk? Surprise them? Could work. I like it. How many of my guys do you want?”

Cullen worried his chin with his thumb in thought. “I believe if you bring your lieutenant along the three of us will be a sufficient team for this job.”

“Only the three of us?” Bull questioned.

“Quick and discreet.”

“Right. Well then…I’ll tell Krem we’re moving out. Meet you in the stables?”

“Yes, shall we say, half an hour’s time?”

“Sure. Half hour, stables.”

*

Cullen chose a dark brown mare called Missye. She hadn’t been there long but she was well behaved and a good riding horse. This mission did not require a war horse, so Missye would do nicely.

Krem was already astride a rust red stallion, whose name Cullen forgot but whose wild spirit he recalled.

Bull’s horse was, of course, the same as he always rode. The one from the far southern lands, the only one large enough for Bull to ride. Bull hadn’t named the horse, naming things wasn’t his style, so he simply called it Big Fella, and everyone else went along with it.

The horses were loaded with what meager supplies they would need for the short journey, and the three of them left through one of the less trafficked gates to the east. Surprisingly they did not ride in silence. They chatted quite amiably about battle strategies and which of the serving girls Bull favored most recently, and what techniques Krem was interested in learning from Cullen’s men. Bull even drank from a wine skin as they went, not enough to be drunk, but enough to make him pleasant and talkative.

“Right then,” Krem piped up, “so just what is this tower we’re going to anyways?”

“Bull didn’t inform you?” Cullen asked with surprise.

“He told me it was full of one thing or another that needs cutting down, that much, yeah. I meant how come I’ve never heard of it if it’s so old? You Fereldens love your history lessons, I know that much.”

“You probably haven’t heard of it precisely because it is so ancient. That and…the locals don’t like to talk about it much.”

Krem slowed his horse to ride beside Cullen. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well, the tower has quite a history, like you said.”

“What _kind_ of history?”

Cullen cleared his throat and donned his best lecture voice. “Well, the tower used to be attached to a castle keep believe it or not. The castle belonged to an Arl of sorts, maybe someone not even that high in the courts, I can’t recall. Well during a war with Orlais …not the most recent one but a much older one…the Arl sent men to fight for the lands that would later become Ferelden. The Arl was too old and too sick to fight in the war himself you see, so he remained at the castle with his family.”

“Unfortunately for the old Arl the enemy soldiers found a way through the mountains and fell upon his castle. They intended to use the Arl and his family as bargaining chips for ransomed supplies or negotiations; I’m not certain which exactly. The Arl, his wife, and his two nieces were jailed in the dungeons. The Arl’s four children, being only children, were treated with a bit more care, and were kept in the tower.”

“And then?” Krem interrupted.

Cullen frowned before continuing. “The Ferelden leaders ignored the ransom entirely. They didn’t even show the enemy officer the curtsey of sending a response. He…didn’t take too kindly to that. He sent several more threatening requests but got the attention of no one. In the end…he executed the Arl, and his wife, and all the servants and court members that remained in the castle. The few guards that remained behind were drawn and quartered, _inside_ the hall. It was a gruesome bloody affair…”

Bull grunted. “What about the kids?”

“Well…after months with no word from the Ferelden side…the Orlesian officer had the tower barred, boarded up, and bricked over, and he marched his troops further into the mountains. He...left the children inside the tower. Presumably they froze to death…or starved.”

“Mother of Andraste…hard to imagine anyone in the world could be so cruel, even seeing some of the shit we see out here…” Krem mumbled shaking his head.

Cullen sullenly nodded in agreement. “It truly is horrible to imagine.”

“Well what happened after all that then?” Krem asked.

“The tale only grows more haunting from here I’m afraid. Years after the war, the tower was reopened, some chantry sisters wished to find the bones of the children and lay them to rest properly I suppose. But the bones were never found. Many liked to say ‘Ah, well then, proof the children weren’t murdered’ and the like, but no one could dispute that if not for trapping someone or something inside the tower, why have the entrance bricked over? Surely, anything of value the soldiers simply would have taken with them, they weren’t likely protecting anything. They theorized that the smallest three children might have been able to squeeze out the high windows and could have fallen to their deaths but the eldest-”

“Enough Cullen, this bloody history lesson isn’t helping anyone,” Bull grumbled.

“It’s helping give me nightmares at the very least…” Krem griped.

“I only mention the strange disappearances of the bodies because it is said that in areas that are host to such strong emotions and death, the veil of the fade is thinner. People seem to believe this about the tower. The castle was never used again and the keep crumbled and fell away, but the tower remains. People say the ghosts of the children are still within the tower, and it’s them that keep it standing. Some claim they have seen the spirits of these children, peering from the windows at night.”

Krem groaned. “Commander Cullen, is all of this really necessary? I’m spooked enough, honest.”

“It’s relevant because I think it points to just what we might be dealing with in the tower.”

“Spirits? Fade crap?” Bull growled, trying to sound as if he weren’t unnerved by the prospect.

“If some group of bandits or highwaymen were to come through here, I don’t think they would be so eager to take up the crumbling old haunted tower, unless of course they were from somewhere quite far away and knew nothing of the tower. Now a group of mages…blood mages, already experienced in dealings with the fade? They might have reason to take the tower.”

“Shit, that’s good thinking. Good work Cullen…”

Krem frowned. “So you suspect that we’re up against blood mages, and you _could_ have bought more templars, but you brought us?”

“I wasn’t sure…we still can’t be entirely sure.”

“But you suspected?” Krem pushed.

Cullen sighed. “I…suspected. But it isn’t anything we can’t handle. I’m confident on that front.”

“That’s right Krem, we’re Chargers, we’ve got it covered,” Bull assured him.

“Whatever you say chief, just doesn’t make much sense to me…”

*

The tower loomed above them, ominously, almost menacing. The tower looked ancient and teetering, not fit for the inhabitance of much more than rats and ravens, let alone humans. Thick gnarled trees encircled the tower, but one could still visualize where the rest of the keep once stood.

“Would you look at that…” Krem muttered. “Covered in thorns and everything, just like something out of a bleedin fairytale.”

There were indeed thick black vines of thorns, crawling and curling all about the base of the tower.

“Roses, planted to honor the children after their remains couldn’t be recovered. Long dead now…it appears they choked themselves out…grew to tightly together and smothered themselves,” Cullen assessed.

Bull cast his eye over Cullen with vague suspicion. “You sure know a lot about this old tower, in the middle on nowhere, that no one likes to talk about…”

“Well, we templars are taught a great deal of history in the order. And the early wars were my favorite topic. Just because I’m no longer a templar doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything I was taught…”

“Well,” Bull pushed forward, securing Big Fella’s reins to a tree branch, “we may as well get to it. Blood mages to kill and all that.”

Krem looked from Cullen to Bull with mild puzzlement. “Are we just…walking through the front door then?”

“Take a good look Krem, there’s only one way in.”

“Right…headlong into untold danger it is then. Lead the way chief.”

Cullen tied off his own horse and made ready his blade.

Bull drew up his axe and swaggered towards the tower. “D’you think we should knock first?”

“Do you think they’d answer?” Krem shot back with a chuckle.

“Could the two of you take this a little more seriously?”

Bull grinned and held up a hand in a surrendering gesture. “He’s right Krem, pipe down. We wanna take these guys by surprise. They’re in a superior vantage point and they’ve no doubt already seen us coming from a mile away, but let’s be quiet in case none of them happen to be looking out any of the windows.”

“Bull…” Cullen hissed.

“Alright alright, we’ll shut it.”

They drew a bit closer to the tower, and all at once the hush of battle fell over them. Cullen let Bull take lead. Common battle tactics often implemented this strategy. Let the reaver go first.

Surprisingly they managed to reach the door without a volley of arrows or spells coming down on them. Bull tested the strength of the lock with a firm push and decided that the old and rotting wood would break with more ease. Bull rammed through the door with his shoulder, horns down. The door caved, and then shattered, practically into toothpicks.

Bull let out a satisfied grunt and brushed the bits of wood from him as Cullen and Krem entered behind him.

“Well, so much for surprise…” Cullen complained.

The three warriors took in their surroundings. The entry way, was stark, devoid of almost any signs that a soul had come or gone since the Chantry sisters searched for the bodies of the Arl’s children. The only pieces out of place were the faint glow of fire light coming from deeper within the structure, and the fresh tracks of mud that lead inside.

“Those look like the tracks of a blood mage to you Cul?” Bull asked in feigned seriousness.

“Ha ha. Press on already won’t you?”

They cleared the next room. A common area used for cooking and perhaps sleeping, it was difficult to discern however, because it seemed someone had ransacked the entire room. If it had been some sort of food that had once been cooking over the fire, it was now thoroughly charred black and made unrecognizable.

“Well shit. Look at this place…maybe they cleared out already? The fire is pretty low.”

“I dunno boss. Place sure doesn’t feel empty…” Krem said with a slight shiver.

Bull nodded. “Yeah, yeah…there is a breath to old places like this. Air makes them creak and moan, and every little nothing sounds like something. There is no rhythm to this place. That probably means there are people here disrupting it…”

“People…or something else…” Cullen whispered.

Then there was a shuffling sound, the plod of unsteady feet on stone. A long, crooked shadow crept along the wall, into the room. Krem moved first, positioning himself to flank the probable foe. Cullen hesitated but moved in before Bull, who seemed disinterested in moving at all.

The creature lumbered around the corner and revealed itself to be a man. He had a large burn on his side and strange slashes on his body. He saw Bull and began shouting, raving, in a strange broken way. None of the words that passed his lips made any sense. He appeared utterly mad.

Krem didn’t strike first, he almost looked as if he wanted to ask the man what was wrong, but Cullen saw the man carried a mage’s staff, alight and aggressive. Cullen raised his blade and cut him down.

It was a solid blow that cleaved between the man’s neck and his shoulder. He hardly had the time to scream. What came out was more of a gasp, a gargle, then Cullen ran him through the chest and he went quiet, falling to the floor in a little heap.

Bull relaxed his stance a bit. “The fuck was that about?”

“Was it the red stuff?” Krem asked?

“It’s Possible…” Cullen kicked over the body and examined it. “I don’t see any physical evidence of red lyrium use…but it could be exposure…”

“Shit…just what this party needed.”

“My sentiments as well,” Cullen chuffed.

They left the body and moved into the hall. It appeared more intact and less touched than the previous room. Blood from the crazed mage trailed down the hall in evenly spaced droplets.

Bull had been right. There were people in the tower, disrupting its natural rhythm. Cullen could hear them now. The reverberations of voices, the scuffle of feet above, the clamor of fighting.

Bull sniffed the air and snorted. “Something fishy is going down here. I don’t like it.”

“For sure,” Krem agreed.

“Cullen?” Bull said in a manner that indicated he was awaiting instruction.

Cullen nodded. “We had best find out what we’re dealing with then.”

They moved down the hall. They passed a side room used for storage. Everything within seemed orderly and quiet, so they passed it by. At the end of the hall there were stairs.

The three listened for signs of danger from above, and moved in when they detected none. Just as Bull put his foot on the first step, there came a deafening scream and a fleshy thumping sound. A severed head bounced down the stairs and landed against Krem's boot. They exchanged a grim look and moved forward. At the top of the stairs was a headless corpse oozing blood, and an abomination, a twisted human shape still gripping a great sword.

This time Bull stepped in. He rushed forward and swung his axe. The axe became buried in the creature’s chest. It attempted to strike back at Bull but Krem bashed it with his shield and it reeled backwards. Bull brought down his axe again and split the abomination’s head. It lurched forward, unable to process the fact that it was dead on its feet, then toppled over.

The commotion drew in two more mages and another twisted figure. A blast of fire smashed into Cullen's shield, which he had raised just in time to cover himself.

Krem readied his own shield and struck out at one of the mages, nicking her arm. She hurled a blast of energy with her staff, but it was poorly aimed and it smashed into the ground.

“The horned one serves the demon! Slay him! Slay him!” shouted the other mage. His eyes were wild and spit flung from his mouth as he spouted more nonsense.

“The hell I do!” Bull shouted, taking a swing at the mage. His first blow didn’t connect, but on the back swing he batted the mage with the flat side of the axe and bloodied his head.

Not phased by the gushing wound to his temple the mage continued to shout. “They have come to help the infiltrator!”

The mage blasted Iron Bull with a shot of frost magic. The bolt grazed Bull’s shoulder but did no serious damage, aside from forcing him to step back and reaffirm his stance.

Cullen rushed the female mage. She was quick and bashed him quite solidly with her staff. She forced him back with a blast of magic and he felt one of his greaves crack. Pain slowly began to well in his calf.Cullen roared and took a wide sweep at her with his sword. He knocked her off her feet and with a second swipe, slit her throat.

The abomination pummeled Krem’s shield over and over, not giving him a chance to strike back. The blocking move Bull had drilled him on was coming in handy.

Bull’s axe had split the mage’s knee and dropped him to the floor. He stomped on the mage’s chest and brought his axe down, nearly severing his head.

The abomination, tiring of beating itself against Krem’s shield turned on Cullen. This gave Krem the opportunity he was missing and he ran the beast through. He stuck it just below the shoulder blades and angled the blade up, hoping to pierce the creature’s heart.  
The abomination howled and clawed at its back, twisting and turning, trying to grab hold of Krem. Krem relinquished his grip on his sword and he instead drew his dagger. He plunged the shorter blade just under the beast’s back ribs twice and it went down. It writhed and screamed with pain before finally going still.

Krem held the abomination still and retrieved his blade. “So it's blood mages after all. One of your scouts stand to get a promotion out of this commander?” he asked Cullen.

Cullen sighed. “Damn. I'd truly wished for bandits.”

“Someone's magic got out of hand here then? Is that what was wrong with the other bastard?” Bull asked Cullen while admiring the sheen of blood on his axe.

“Well, something certainly seems off. Something worse than blood magic gone wrong anyways. Did that one say something about a demon?”

“He did. Asshole.” Bull spit on the lifeless mage.

Krem made an attempt to wipe his blade clean on the mage’s robes. “Do you think they summoned a demon here? Is that what this is?”

Cullen examined the room for a few moments. “There haven’t been any lesser demons about. At least not yet. And if they had summoned a demon wouldn’t, they be in service to it? Why would they be so concerned with killing Bull specifically?”

“Maybe they summoned the demon by mistake. That could be the reason right?” Krem offered.

“Could be I suppose…”

Bull shrugged in a doubtful manner. “He said something about an infiltrator too. What do you think that meant?”

“I think it means we need more information before we move on. Spread out, search the room for anything useful. We need to know what we’re walking into here.”

“Sure thing Cul, but you ought to take some elfroof for that leg of yours. Injury like that can turn bad in a hurry. Trust me.”

“Right…I’ll see to it.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Cullen gazed about the room to better assess their situation. It was divided by a path of destruction. The left half of the room had remained intact. Long work tables stood undisturbed. They held bottles of strange liquids and various tools and ingredients. Magical related tomes were stacked neatly about the room or left open to relevant passages. Some were in simple languages, others seemed only marked by strange symbols. Cullen couldn’t make heads or tails of most of it.

One of the tables in the room was fitted with restraints of a sort. Perhaps used for dissections, perhaps something more sinister. Blood had soaked into the wood and forever stained the surface, though there was evidence someone had attempted to scour it clean.

There were a few chairs in the room and Cullen sat in one to remove his broken greave and inspect his wound. The skin had been split quite badly but the limb didn’t seem broken. Cullen uncorked a bottle of elfroot and took a few gulps. His skin stung and tingled as it knitted back together. He replaced his weakened armor on his leg and stood to test the extent of the damage that had been healed. He felt more than sure footed enough to move on.

Krem and Bull busied themselves examining the other half of the chamber. The right section of the room was thoroughly devastated, by what, it was unclear.

Nothing remained in one piece. Tables had been split. Chairs and bookcases had been left in splinters, books in clumps of ash. Embers still smoldered in a few places where fire had caught hold of wood. There were several scorch marks on the stone walls and floor.

“What do you think? It’s like a battle right?” Krem asked, kicking over a demolished stool.

“Well I’d say it was certainly some sort of fight. Definitely one involving magic…”

Bull crossed his arms over his chest. “They summoned some fucking demon and things went to shit. What’s missing?”

Cullen gestured to the destruction in the room with a sweep of his hand. “Then where are all the bodies? Where are the demons? No, this looks like an internal conflict to me. Mages fighting mages. I don’t think any sort of demon or abominations were involved. At least not when this was done.”

“So they got into an argument then summoned a fucking demon. So what?”

“Don’t you think it might be worth knowing what they were fighting about?”

Bull’s brow furrowed a bit deeper. “Summoning demons comes to mind…”

“Lets take a better look around here. Bull, look over all the odds and ends, see if you have the slightest idea what they were working on here. I’ll look for any notes or personal logs that they may have kept. Cremisius, check the bodies, see what you can find.”

Bull and Krem nodded in confirmation of their orders and separated.

There were quills and pots of ink and scrawled notes scattered about the work space. Cullen combed over them with care. As he expected, very few of them made any sense to him.

He did discover a log book made by Gallus Atronius, who apparently served as an assistant to one of the mage’s in the tower, which was fairly insightful. Cullen picked through some of the earlier entries before settling on one that began in Frumentum, where the handwriting was larger and messier, as if penned in great haste.

_9th of Frumentum_

_Claiborne found something today. Something he thinks may serve as the conduit he has been searching for. I’m to discover the approximate location of his contact in Orlais. If this contact can really deliver what Claiborne and the others have been hunting it could provide the break through we so desperately need in our research. I will write again when I have made contact with our source in Orlais._

As promised, the next entry came from Orlais.

_18th of Frumentum_

_May I be the first to say, Val Firmin is a far cry from the decadence that is Val Royeaux. Still, Orlais is mild and relatively pleasant this season. The countryside is wet and laden with insects, but they aren’t the terrible itching sort I expected and for that I am thankful._

_The contact I met with was an elf, a Dalish elf of all things. He informed me that the conduit we seek is further south, somewhere in the Frostback Mountains to the east. To think the Dalish have been hiding this away all these years. From what our contact says this conduit could be the real deal. He wants to negotiate a price, however I was strictly instructed to inform him that the price is non negotiable. A sum up front for the information, and a pay out when the conduit is in hand. I can’t believe we are so close to finding an authentic fade relic._

“Iron Bull…”

“Yeah?”

“Would I be correct in assuming a fade relic is an object-”

“Forged in the fade? Yeah, if they even exist. It’s pretty up in the air. Has to be cast in the fade by spirits, or demons, then ripped through the veil, into our world. Not easy to do. Only a very powerful mage could have pulled it off. Or a demon. Maybe. We don’t do much study of the fade back in Par Vollen.

“No, I don’t imagine so…” Cullen sighed before returning to the log book.

_If this relic proves to be the real deal it could be the missing key to opening the gateway we have sought for so long. I wonder what awaits discovery on the other side. Perhaps we will know soon._

_29th of Furmentum_

_To the surprise of none, our contact in Orlais wasn't exactly straight forward with us about the nature of the conduit, nor how it would be acquired. An unpleasant affair for all involved, but coin has changed hands and now it is done. The conduit it ours. Who knew the Dalish were so easily bought._

_The Southern most Frostbacks are as miserably cold and dangerous as I had feared. Now that I am charged with transporting the relic safely back to Orlais where master Claiborne awaits, I fear this unexpected change may complicate things even further._

_Furthermore, there is little proof the relic is authentic. It certainly doesn't seem powerful. I do hope master Claiborne is pleased with our purchase. If not it may be my head. Not before that untruthful dirty elf though._

_5th of Umbralis_

_Master Claiborne has inspected the relic and says we have every reason to believe it is truly from the fade. Authentic, I can hardly believe it. He is displeased by its current state, but not so greatly as to overshadow the joy of his long awaited triumph. He has informed me that there is much to be done in preparation. He wishes testing to begin at once._

Cullen hoped he would find details on these tests in the entries to follow but it seemed Gallus was promptly distracted by romantic pursuits of a girl named Pompilia and his note keeping suffered for it. Cullen flicked through the notes and read the last entry.

In bold and deplorable hand writing the last entry simply read:

_The tower must fall._

“Well that’s not ominous…”

There were a few more mentions of a gateway of some sort, one that somehow pertained to the fade. There were also several further mentions of the conduit used in their experiments, but nothing about what they entailed.

Cullen collected a few of the notes and stashed them away to be studied by the scholars, mages, and spies back in Skyhold.

“It seems someone by the name of Claiborne was the leader of this group. And you may just be right about the demons Iron Bull. According to this log book these mages were experimenting with the veil of the fade. They may have been trying to replicate the rifts or…well I’m not rightly sure. All of these notes seem to mention using some sort of conduit to breach a door or gate. A fade relic. There must be more here that would be of use, but perhaps it would be best if we moved on for now?”

“Might not get to come back for a look.” Bull pointed out.

“Good point. Keep investigating for now.”

Cullen opened another set of notes. There was no mention of who had written them inside, but they were undoubtedly of interest.

_Umbralis, 17_

_Claiborne said he found us a place to set to work in. It’s damp and it’s drafty, and it looks like a strong fart could knock the damn thing over, but he say’s it is the best we can do for now. I have to admit it couldn’t be more isolated. No chance any travelers will come passing by all the way up here._

_Claiborne has charged me with keeping track of the condition of the conduit as we approach the next round of experiments. That red lyrium sure has moved things along for us. Worked wonders with activating the conduit properly. Sure doesn't last long though. Got to be a way to fix that... Wicked strong stuff. Bloody dangerous too._

_Day two of the new round of experiments. Conduit exhibits increased levels of agitation while active. Could be a reaction to the lyrium, could be a sign were getting somewhere. Could be nothing._

_I wouldn't classify it as hostile just yet. I've seen the damn thing hostile before._

_While inactive, the condition of the conduit remains the same. Utterly catatonic._

_Day Seven_

_There was an incident today. The conduit came into direct contact with the red lyrium. It was an accident, poor Aramult wasn't expecting it to be so active._

_The blasted thing burned the lyrium right up, nearly a whole day's supply, gone within moments. We thought we might have had a much bigger problem on our hands when we believed the conduit had absorbed the stuff. However, it tested negative for contamination. What happened to the lyrium? We don't have a damn clue. Well that’s not entirely true, some of it made its way into Aramult._

_She might pull through, provided we can get her to come down off the lyrium. We’re going to have to be more careful with the conduit from now on._

_Day Ten_

_Things haven’t been right since the accident with the lyrium. The conduit has crossed over into hostile behavior and extra restraints are needed to ensure our work can continue safely. It is becoming active more and more often without prompting._

_Not just the conduit. The rest of the tower has been…behaving unusually. After the incident Aramult began mumbling about hearing wailing coming from the top of the tower. We thought she was hallucinating from the lyrium in her system, but then Pompilia said she heard the same thing._

_I questioned Claiborne about the matter and he said it was possible it had something to do with his studies of the conduit. I agreed with him, but Aramult had said the crying had been that of children._

_Blast it all, I’d heard this tower was haunted, but up until now things had been quiet. What could be going on? I refuse to believe it is ghosts. I’ll get to the bottom of this myself._

_Day Fourteen_

_The tower seems to grow more unstable by the day. Several of us have asked Claiborne if we might move to a different location but he refuses to acknowledge our complaints. Winter is coming fast and the tower is nothing but damp and drafty. We’re going to catch our death if we stay here come the frosts._

_Poor Aramult never did recover from the lyrium affliction. She got out of bed well enough but she needed looking after. We obliged of course but a few days ago…well I was making Aramult some lavender tea, I remembered she liked it quite well, and Aramult was going on and on about roses that wouldn’t bloom. I wasn’t watching her well enough…she flew into some sort of rage. She started shouting out the window, kept saying “she’s coming closer” then before I could get hold of her, she toppled out of the window._

_We burned her body today like she would have wanted. She was always such a firm believer in the Maker. Andraste give her peace. And forgive me for my carelessness._

_Day Twenty-one_

_Aramult was right. The wailing from the top of the tower, it sounds like children. I can hear it now. We all hear it now._

_I understand what she meant about the roses now. There are thorns growing up from under the tower where Aramult’s body landed. Like roses…roses that won’t bloom._

_The conduit is active all the time now. It never goes catatonic. I think its watching us. Waiting. Waiting for what? Waiting for what…_

_Day Twenty-nine_

_The roses are going to bloom soon. They’ll be beautiful, I think._

The next three entries were similar in nature and just as strange. Cullen ripped out some of the entries and packed them away with the others.

“It’s strange though…there is no talk of blood magic of any kind, at least not in any of these accounts anyways. So when did the blood magic start here I wonder?” Cullen muttered.

“You mean they were trying to smash their way into the fade from this end, without using blood magic?” Bull asked as he examined the various vials of mysterious liquids left about.

“It would appear to be something like that, yes.”

“You think they knocked on the door and a demon answered?”

“It seems that way. None of their notes mention a demon, but…well…”

“Spit it out Cul,” Bull nearly chuckled.

“Something is off with these notes. It’s…it’s as if they all suddenly…lost their minds.”

Bull sniffed a jar of dark green paste and recoiled in displeasure. “What the hell do you mean Cullen?”

“Their notes. Even where I can hardly understand them I can tell that most of them are coherent thoughts. Written by decently sane minds. But some of these notes are…well they are little more than mad ramblings. They are barely legible and their content...it’s precisely the sort of nonsense any raving lunatic would spout off. But even that seems…off. The changes are so abrupt. So sudden.”

Bull nodded as he caught Cullen’s meaning. “Madness is a slow and winding journey for most. I get what you’re saying. You think there was some sort of catalyst to this fucked up mess.”

“Precisely. It’s only determining whether that catalyst was in fact a demon, or something else. Maker give me strength, this is a mess.”

“No shit.”

“So,” Cullen sighed, “what do you think was going on here?”

“We’re thinking along the same lines. No signs of blood magic here, you know, aside from the abominations and blood mages running around. My impression? These poor bastards were just a bunch of apostates looking to work in peace. Not saying their work was necessarily peaceful though.”

“What do you mean?”

“These potions and crap? Some of them I don’t recognize, but some of them are a bit too familiar. A few of them are poisons, simple enough. Mostly the sort that make you really miserable, not so much the deadliest around. A few other things I know for sure. There are pain inhibitors and sleeping agents in here, as well as the proper counter agents. Some of these poisons are similar in nature to qamek. Intended to make the person real docile and obedient like. That and the bloody tables and tools? It has to be torture.”

“I see. It certainly does look that way. But to what end I wonder? And who?”

“Yeah, like you said. no corpses. They’d have to be dumping them somewhere. I’d say they tossed em’ out a window, easiest way down, but I didn’t see any outside. Didn’t smell any either.”

“Nor did I. So they are still in the tower? Why move bodies higher?”

“If they’re all raving mad who knows what they might have done with them. Could have been eating them. Could be why they all went bat-shit.”

Cullen placed a hand too his mouth. “Maker please…let’s not discuss it.”

“Krem!” Bull bellowed, clearly growing bored. “Find anything?”

“Don’t rightly know what it was I was meant to be looking for…”

Cullen sighed. “Anything useful. Any information.”

Krem frowned and waved his arms about in exasperation. “What do you want from me? They’re a bunch of mages! They’ve got a bunch of mage stuff! If you want a load of glowin’ sticks, they have em’.”

“Krem,” Bull growled, “Shut it till you find something.”

“Alright, alright…let me look…Ah, wait, this lady has something. Bit of parchment.”

Krem pulled the slips of paper from the mages robe.

“Bah, figures, they’re all in Orlesian,” Krem muttered after unfolding the pieces of parchment.

They were little more than letters written on torn scraps of paper. They bore no seals, nor were they signed or addressed to anyone. They appeared to have been passed in secret.

Krem cleared his throat and read aloud.

_I have seen what Gallus has returned from the mountains with. Abominable. I can not believe the lengths Claiborne has gone to in order to prove his theory. I fear for the safety and the peace of this order. For the time being I will stand by Claiborne, and pray that he returns to his senses._

The next note was more urgent in nature.

_Godless, and bold in the face of the Maker! Brazen enough to insight violence here among us. Titia and Decimus excommunicated and what’s more Kaeso missing. I never thought Claiborne capable of this. I advise you to take your leave now, in secret, before I am discovered._

The last note was plain in intention.

_Claiborne is no longer among us. Certainly his form walks still, but that is no longer our Claiborne. The horrors I have witnessed him commit are too numerous and too great to deny. This is your last chance to leave. I will deal with Claiborne myself. It must be done._

Krem shook his head and handed the notes over to Cullen. “Pity. If she’d a’left like her pal asked her she might have lived longer.”

“Yes. The poor maleficar.”

Bull scratched at the skin of his shoulder covered by his harness. “Seems this Claiborne fella is none to pleasant. Think we already met him?”  
“Something tells me we haven’t.”

“Well then. We ought to go and introduce ourselves,” Bull said as he picked up his axe and headed for the stairs.

The next floor of the tower was a library of sorts. Eight or so bodies laid about on the stone floor. It was difficult to be sure of just how many there were, as they were mostly in pieces. Several of the bodies appeared to be in the stages of becoming abominations, but had been slain before they had fully transformed. Aside from the littering of corpses the room was rather immaculate. A few books had been displaced, but no other signs of disturbance marred the room’s tranquility.

The bookshelves were crammed into the room quite tightly, making the isles rather narrow. So narrow in fact, that Iron Bull could not pass through them without turning to the side considerably. Such close quarters made bad terrain for fighting mages.

Cullen motioned for the party to halt and listen for signs of danger. They were met with silence. The only sound they could make out was a fire, blazing almost cheerfully somewhere deeper in the room. Cullen motioned Krem and Bull to join him where two isles intersected, making a slightly larger space to stand.

“What in Andraste's name happened here?” Cullen asked breathlessly.

“Could be the scrap we heard earlier. Mages…Looks like a keg of gattlok went off in here.”

Krem crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Yeah, ‘cept it doesn't.”

Bull frowned. “What to you mean?”

“Krem is right. A blast like that would have done all sorts of damage to the room. This place is nearly immaculate. This wasn’t any ordinary blast.”

“What tore them to pieces then?” Bull questioned, stooping down to pick through the scattered parts. “Sure as hell wasn't the work of any blade. There isn’t a clean cut to be found.”

Cullen bent down and studied the mangled bodies as well. At first glance it was easy enough to believe that the mess was strewn about entirely indiscriminately, but upon closer inspection Cullen discovered that was not the case.

“Look here, there is a void in the blood,” he pointed out.

Bull examined the floor where Cullen indicated and Krem joined them.

“The blood is everywhere, but it suddenly stops here. Something was here. Something quite large….”

“I see it...that crescent moon shape.” Bull traced his finger over the clean stone. “Not a drop out of place. What d’you think it was?”

Cullen worried his bottom lip. “If I had to guess, I'd say it was a magic barrier. A very powerful one. Powerful enough to cause this carnage.”

“A barrier ripped them apart like that?”

“It would have if they tried to tear it down by force...so long as its caster's magic was stronger....I bet they all attacked at once. When their attack flew back at them it destroyed them.”

Krem kicked a severed hand away from his boot and muttered under his breath. “Must be some mage...”

“Claiborne?”

“Could be,” Cullen admitted. “According to these logs there was unrest among his followers. Might be that they staged a mutiny against him.

“And this is the result...Think he survived?” Bull asked.

Cullen stood and stepped over the crescent void in the carnage. He glanced over the stone and carpet, looking for any signs someone had been standing behind the barrier at all. Far from where the barrier had stood, was a disturbed bookcase, with blood smeared on the spines of the tomes.

“Look there,” Cullen pointed out. “That's the only blood I see on this side. And it's fresh…”

“So one way or another, something survived this fight. Interesting.”

“It appears that way, yes.”

Cullen stood and motioned for the others to follow him. They took no more than three steps when they heard a dreadful wet hacking noise, followed by the distinct sound of someone spitting.

The three warriors froze in place. They no longer had the element of surprise, but now neither did their quarry. Cullen shifted to face Bull, to search his expression for guidance, but a voice from within the room drew his attention away.

The three of you, skulking about this tower, no better than thieves...pathetic."


	3. Chapter 3

“Don’t be alarmed. You have nothing to fear from me. Come in.”

It was the tender voice of a woman, weakened by pain. Krem and Bull looked expectantly at Cullen, allowing him to know they trusted his next move, whatever it may be.

Cullen raised his shield and began to move deeper into the maze of books. Krem drew out a dagger and followed his lead.

With as much care as they could manage, Cullen and Krem in clunky clanking armor, and Bull knocking into the bookshelves every couple of feet, they progressed towards the back of the library, where the voice had emanated from.

Rounding one last bookcase they were met with the image of the fire, conducting a twisted and disorienting dance of shadow and light all about the room. Pulled close to the fire was a chair, and in it, sat the woman who had beckoned to them.

“This tower, always so cold. Join me by the fire, you look to need it,” the woman coaxed.

There was the thunk of wood hitting stone, and then a small burst of illumination.

The light was conjured by a mage’s staff, but held steady and was clearly not meant to be threatening. By its light, the three warriors could at last see the woman’s face.  
She was of early middle age and dressed in fine blue robes. Her blonde hair was neatly braided into a bun and sweat glistened on her brow. She held her side, where blood seeped through her clothes and into the fabric of the chair.

“Well, won't you keep a dying woman company?” she asked.

The woman gave them a weak smile, but Cullen did not lower his shield, nor Krem his weapon.

“Oh you'll have little need of those now,” she chuckled, lowering her staff and allowing the illumination to flicker out. “I think you'll find the fight is well and out of me now.”

Cullen looked over the woman then to his company. They seemed to mirror his sentiments in believing the woman was telling the truth.

“Who are you?” Cullen posed to the woman, allowing his stance to relax, but placing a hand on the grip of his sword for reassurance. “What happened here?”

“You know…I was expecting Chantry templars, or at best some Tevinter zealots hunting stolen secrets. Three handsome adventurers...that’s a surprise...”

“Awfully talkative for a dying woman, isn't she?” Bull asked, dropping the head of his axe to the ground and leaning against the butt of its grip slightly.

Cullen gripped his sword firmly and gave the woman his most intense stare. “Who are you?” he repeated.

“You are aware that knowing my name won't make things any clearer for you, yes?...but if it will keep you from snapping at me like a damned mabari...my name is Tirania Ulan. Former mage of the Val Royeaux circle.”

Cullen nodded, without surprise. “An apostate then...”

“Please,” Tirania snorted. “you were well aware of that before I told you.”

“What are so many apostate mages doing gathered together like this? Shouldn't you split up...easier to hide that way. Why group together?”

“Security. A lone mage is vulnerable to a force of templars. Together we are more powerful...or we thought we were.” The woman winced in pain and was overcome by a bout of heavy coughing.

Cullen sighed and let his sword hand hang freely at his side. “She's wounded quite badly. I don't have much love for maleficar, but we can't interrogate a corpse.”

Bull cleared his throat. “Krem, you still got some elfroot on you, right?”

“Some, yeah. You sure you wanna give it to her chief?”

Tirania waved dismissively. “You needn't bother. I fear I'm beyond the help of its effects at this point.” Her turquoise eyes glimmered with sadness. Maybe even regret.

Cullen raised his brow slightly. “Truly? The wound doesn't look so serious...”

“The damage is mostly internal. That was...part of the deal I made...”

“Deal?” Cullen sputtered. “As in, with a demon?”

Tirania gave a soft yet bitter laugh. “If you weren't sent by the Chantry...what are the three of you doing here?”

Cullen straightened his back and puffed out his chest ever so slightly. “We are with the Inquisition. Our scouts reported activity near here. We suspected blood mages, only...we expected them to be alive. If you mages have managed to tear a hole into the fade we need to know.”

“It's not as if the herald of Andraste can close it now. Poor sodding bastard,” Krem grumbled. Cullen shot him a stern look and he clamped his mouth shut.

“No, there is no fade tear. Not at the moment anyways. You truly want to know what happened here? They were all driven to madness...”

Cullen sighed. There was a small twinge of pain from his wound and he decided to sit on a long wooden bench to rest the leg. “Driven by what?”

Bull scratched a spot of dried blood off of his arm and shuddered ever so slightly. “A demon?”

“In part...there were other contributing factors,” Tirania admitted.

Bull scowled. “I told you two. Demons.”

“I don't blame the demon.” The mage wheezed. “It was Claiborne who set us on this path. We more than earned our destruction, he saw to that...”

“Claiborne. He was in charge here correct?”

“Not in any official capacity, but we looked to him for guidance and we followed his say so. Did the three of you truly only come here to uproot a few blood mages? No one told you about-”

“About the relic?” Cullen interrupted her. “No. I only just read it existence since arriving here. It seems you lot have had a busy last few days.”

“Indeed. Busy, busy days.” The mage grimaced and examined her wound. “I may just have enough time to tell you a story before I have to go…but I want you to do me a favor first. A final request…”

“Well, even a blood mage is entitled to that I suppose. What is it?”

“Heh…before today I could have proudly claimed I was no such thing. It’s funny how quickly things can change…My request. At the top of the tower Claiborne still lives. No matter what he offers, no matter what he says…you must kill him. Kill him for what he has done to us.”

Bull grunted as if amused. “That was already on the agenda, but sure, we’ll take him out.”

“Yes, as he said, we will handle the matter. Now, will you tell us what happened here?”  
Tirania sighed and shifted in her chair. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Or band of merry men here started as five, apostates on the run from the circle, but we did not remain as such. By luck, we were discovered by Claiborne and his fellow magisters from Tevinter. He told us of his theory, about being able to forge a doorway between our world and the fade, using a relic.”

“Not tear the veil, or blast a hole in it with some uncontrolled force. To forge a working doorway. Of course it was just a theory then. We, having little choice in the matter, agreed to join his team, looking for a relic we could use to forge the door.”

“We picked up a few mages from the free marches, and three from Antiva. We were a happy growing family. We weren't blood mages, and we constantly traveled, so no one took to seriously hunting us.”

“Claiborne grew obsessive with his research. He was desperate to find a fade relic, or discover a way to forge one of his own. His work meant everything to him. Most of us were content enough to be living free, outside the confines of the Chantry, but there were some who were as dedicated to finding the relic as Claiborne was, and our work became increasingly urgent.”

“Claiborne believed, perhaps rightly so, that a doorway to the fade was the ultimate answer for keeping mages out from under the Chantry's thumb. He might have been right. With free access to the power of the fade, a handful of mages could measure up to an army. Some thought that would be enough to break the Chantry's hold over mages for good.”

Cullen cocked his head and raised his hand, instructing the woman to pause. “I read a log book belonging to someone named Gallus. He wrote that you actually found a relic forged in the fade. Is that true?”

The woman coughed and afterwards gave the three men a pained look.

“Ah, poor Gallus. The tower took him just this morning, believe it or not. Took its time with him it did. Yes, he did find a relic. None of us were expecting what he returned with.”

“What do you mean?”

“The fade relic isn't a relic at all. It's...well...it's alive...but as far as what it is I couldn't say. I was never a member of Claiborne's research team. I was in charge of maintaining the library.”

“Sure it looks easy now with all the books safe on their shelves, but as I said, we traveled a great deal. Our library was kept in trunks and crates and carted from town to town. You try cataloging that...Ah, but that is a story I haven't the time to tell, now isn't it?”

Cullen ignored her library talk. “If the fade relic is alive, doesn't that make it a fade being instead?”

“Not quite...A fade being is born of the fade. A fade relic is forged in the fade. The relic in the tower was born of this world, but…shall we cay, completed, in the fade…I wish I could be clearer but I don’t understand it much better myself.”

“When Gallus returned with the relic Claiborne was perturbed. He ordered none to see it, but to have it sequestered in the top of the tower where he could look after it personally.”

“No one knew. No one even suspected the relic was alive. My dear friend Joseal, she told me about the relic. Joseal worked beneath Claiborne. She and Gallus were always competing with each other for his favor. They both fancied themselves his apprentice. In truth I think Claiborne favored neither. After a time, he only had room in his heart for his work.”

“Joseal wanted to impress Claiborne by learning all she could about the fade relic, in the hopes that she might discover something that had gone unnoticed. She stole Gallus's notes from his sit-ins on the relic experiments. She was alarmed to learn that they were inflicting methods of torture on the relic, and brought the notes to me.”

“I approached Claiborne on the matter at once, believing that there had to be some sort of mistake, or at worst, that he had momentarily lost his way and simply needed a bit of guidance. The man I knew would have never committed such atrocities as the ones written in those notes, no matter how desperate he might have become.”

“But he was cold and hard to me as he had never been before. He curtly informed me that his research was none of my concern and that I should tend to the books and nothing more. We argued heatedly but never concluded the argument. There was an accident in his lab that day.”

Cullen nodded. “The red lyrium, yes. It killed that mage.”

Tirania shook her head. “No...it did not. The tower killed her.”

“The tower?”

“The tower is alive too. It used to be asleep, until we woke it.”

“Woke it? What do you mean?”

“Haunted, just as the stories all say. Haunted by the Arl's murdered children. They were docile enough hosts before...”

“Before what?”

“Before Claiborne brought that thing here. Before he brought on our ruination....”

Bull squinted his eye at the mage. “So, when did you turn to blood magic?”

“You might think...it was a decision made by Claiborne, to turn us into blood mages, to corrupt us and twist us, in order to get what he desired...but that was not the case.” The mage sighed and looked into the fire, unblinking.

“After the thorns started growing, the tower changed irreversibly, and there was no going back. It began with Gallus. He began skulking around the tower at all hours, entering places he wasn’t normally found, just all around acting unusual. I had thought perhaps Claiborne had been working him too hard and he was losing sleep.”

“Eventually I approached him on the matter and it became clear all was not well with the young man. He mumbled all his words, and picked incessant at a wound on the back of his hand until it split and bled. I asked him about the latest experiments he had witnessed and he began to cry. I thought it was out of remorse for the torture he had witnessed inflicted on the relic, but there was something else there. There was a terrible fear in his eyes, and he told me.”

“The tower must fall.”

“He asked if I heard the wailing, horrible shrieking in the night coming from the top of the tower, but at the time I did not hear it. I tried to comfort him and interpret his ramblings but he threw me off and skittered away into the chambers below the tower. He did not return to his usual lodgings thereafter, though I did not learn that till the hour last....”

“Others heard the screaming in the nights after, but never I. It was ever evident to me that all was not well within our walls.”

“Two members of Claiborne's team and I confronted him about the changes we had detected in the tower. It was this meeting that revealed to me once and for all that Claiborne was lost to us.”

“He berated us, all but hurled fire at us really. Wouldn't hear of leaving the tower when he felt he was so close to finishing what he had started. He branded us insidious betrayers and threatened to slay us then and there. I believe he would have done it too, had Menici not burst into the chamber at that very moment. He was dreadfully pale and out of breath. It took a great deal of calming to discover what had upset him so. He told us that Clovia had been missing since that morning and no one could find a trace of her in the tower.”

“Clovia was very important to Claiborne's work, She apparently had vital information he needed to continue his work. Instead of killing us he ordered us to search for her, and so we did...”

“We never found her. Not hide nor hair. Her clothes and books were still in her room, and no food was missing from the kitchen that anyone could tell. If she had left the tower, she had taken nothing. Not even the notes Claiborne sought. The notes which were promptly delivered to him to sate his animosity.”

“Claiborne tried to convince us that Clovia had betrayed us and run away like a coward. He even attempted to blame his earlier suspicion and hostility towards the other mages and I on Clovia’s transgressions. A sad farce to say the least. Still, the day had been long and dreary, and the other mages and myself agreed to deal with Claiborne in the morning.”

“Come the morning it was known that the tower’s youngest apprentice, a slight lad named Kaeso was also missing. This time a great deal of blood was found in his chambers, but nothing else. Like Clovia he had disappeared.”

“In a rage, Titia, Decimus, and myself cornered Claiborne atop his tower. The discussion came to blows and Claiborn banished Titia and Decimus. Decimus beseeched me to leave the tower and its evil with them, but I could not abandon poor Joseal here. I had to convince her to leave.”

“So you were the one that wrote these notes. Cullen produced the three notes in Orlesian and passed them to the mage. She gave them a forlorn look but refused to take them.

“Yes, I wrote them.”

Cullen folded the notes and held them in his lap. He looked a bit remorseful himself. “I'm sorry to tell you, your friend didn't make it out of the tower.”

“No, it doesn't appear any of us will. Perhaps that is for the best now...”

“Killing her was a kindness. She was-”

“In the grips of madness? Yes, they all were.”

“And this was the work of the murdered children? The spirits that haunt this place?”

Tirania shook her head and coughed. “No. That was the work of the demon.”

“Where did the demon come from?”

“From the fade I suppose. All demons do…”

Cullen growled slightly and Bull’s lips twitched in the form of a smug grin.

“I meant who summoned it? Claiborne?”

Tirania shook her head. “I suspected him as well, but it was not Claiborne. I learned the truth, from the demon himself.”

“You spoke with this demon? And it let you live?” Cullen’s face was a portrait of shock.

“This demon does not covet lives or souls. It is a demon of madness. He seeks to corrupt minds and feeds off the chaos he creates. That is what happened here. That is why they all went mad or turned to blood magic. He came through the doorway Claiborne made, all at the command of the relic.”

Cullen stood abruptly. “You mean…he succeeded? He created the gateway?”

“Yes and no.” Tirania shook her head. “Claiborne is a master of the arcane arts, but I suspect he hardly had a hand in it after all. I suspect it was always there. It simply had to want to be opened. I guess it finally wanted to be…”

Bull frowned. “And all these bits and pieces? How did that happen?”

“I paid off the demon. I knew the mages couldn’t be allowed to leave the tower. I accepted that they had to be put down. If they were to leave…the demon’s chaos would have spread. I attempted to lock the tower down with a barrier spell but…they came for me. I couldn’t fight them off for long so…I made a trade with the demon .I called the demon forth and asked it to grant me a gift. In exchange for a great deal of my life force, I asked it to make me powerful enough to slay the mages. In doing so it also made me powerful enough to slay it. Outsmarting demons is often just as dangerous as battling them. I got lucky. ”

“So…the madness is over then?”

“I’m afraid not. Those afflicted are beyond helping. They can no longer spread the demon’s curse to others however, so, the worst has passed.”

Tirania had been growing paler by the moment, and her voice had gone hoarse. She was clearly nearing the end of her life.

“I'm afraid you're too late to the ball gentlemen. The fun has all been had. Nothing left for you to do. Except kill poor Claiborne.”

Bull withdrew a small vial of dark purple liquid and offered it to Tirania. “Took this from downstairs. It's normally used as a sleep aid but...a dose this size would do a fair deal towards making you more...comfortable.”

“Thank you, it is a kind gesture. However, I am not willing to move on until I know the rest of my companions here have been released from their torment and Claiborne has been struck down for his crimes against us…”

“I understand. We should finish clearing the tower now then,” Cullen acknowledged moving to stand.

“Wait...I have one more request to ask of you. The conduit...it has suffered enough. Show it kindness. Kill it, or free it, but do not take it back to your own scholars to be poked and prodded at, lest it call a demon unto you as well. Preferably...I would ask that you spare it. I have seen it with my own eyes today at last, and I can not fathom it being worthy of death. It would put my soul at ease.”  
Cullen hesitated. “This...living relic, sounds dangerous to me. I'm not certain allowing it to live would be wise..”

“See it, and judge for yourself.”

Yes...I suppose we will simply have to do just that. Cullen told the mage, standing to his feet.

Tirania pointed at a large wooden door, nearly obstructed by a bookshelf.

“Through there. Be wary. There may yet be mages in the tower above. I can not tell.”

“Thank you, for telling us what happened. And for your warning. When things are settled here, I'll have a team come and retrieve your body and your books.”

“There will be no need. There won't be either left to collect in the end. The tower must fall…”

“The tower will fall?”

The lady mage nodded and let her staff fall to the floor. She would no longer need it.

Bull grunted and picked up his axe. “Let it fall then,” He muttered as he made for the door.


	4. Chapter 4

The next flight of stairs was shorter and more narrow than the previous two they had already climbed.

“Maker this tower is tall…”Cullen muttered.

“Do you think we'll find this Claiborne guy up there? Or just some demon?” Bull asked, hefting his axe onto his shoulders to better traverse the stairway.

Krem snorted. “If demons were half as clever as they all think they are, you think they would be better at hiding. If I were a clever demon, I would chose to be someone a little less obvious. Like a dying, book keeping mage…”

“He has a point Cul, you don't think she was one do you?”

“I don't think so. I'd wager she would have attacked us once she thought she had tricked us. Demons aren't often patient. If she was a demon in disguise, I don't see how she could benefit from allowing us to leave.”

“Maybe she wants this mage dead. Maybe he's the one trying to banish the demon.”

“I suppose it's possible...We'll simply have to have faith.”

Bull shook his head doubtfully. “Faith doesn't protect our asses from mage fire.”

Krem sighed and brushed by Bull to cover Cullen’s flank before he opened the door to the next floor.

A foul stench greeted the men on the other side. The aroma of rotting food and rotting flesh mingled in the air, along with the scents of stagnant water, various poultices, and the general smell of unwash.

“Maker's mercy that's rank,” Krem complained, his hands to full to cover his nose.

Bull snorted and strode into the room. “Someone has been hiding away up here for sure. Must be this mage.”

Like the work space below, this room was in shambles. Dishes containing picked over bones and various breeds of mold were stacked all about. Crumpled wads of paper, decaying plant matter, and various other forms of refuse provided nesting material for several rats.

“Someone has been living here? In this?”

“Don't you smell the shit?” Bull asked, wrinkling up his crooked nose. “Let's find him already.”

Cullen nodded and cleared his throat. “Mage Claiborne, reveal yourself.”

“I'm sure that'll do the trick…” Krem mumbled, making ready his sword.

There was a rustling on the far side of the room then a man emerged from under a desk.

“Hello?” he whispered. He was a bearded man with brown hair, peppered with gray. His face was haggard and his clothes torn and dirty.

“W-Who are you? How did you get up here? You can't have gotten passed Tirania’s barrier...unless...the demon has taken her too..”

“Tirania claims she has defeated the demon.”

“So you weren't sent by him...by Tirania then...traitorous bitch…”

“We weren't sent by anyone. We are here of our own accord.” Cullen informed the man. “The mage Tirania did ask us to seek you out however. We have heard her argument. What is yours?”

“Much the same as hers I wouldn't wonder...she is not the type to lie.”

Cullen’s mouth fell agape. “So you really have created a door to the fade. Without blood magic?”

“Aye...I have. It's a masterpiece...it is a shame no one survived to witness it in all it's glory.”

The mage grinned wickedly, his pride shining through him like a beacon of light.

“I would invite you to see it, but I’m afraid you too must be exterminated. I won't let harm come to my creation. That is why you've come isn't it? To destroy it?”

“Not officially, no. We came to investigate the mages in this tower...your fade relic was an unexpected curve in the road…”

“Did she ask this of you? Tirania? To liberate the poor and abused creature in my keeping? Ha, she has put too much stock in her eyes yet again,” the mage said with a disparaging shake of his head.

Cullen cocked his head. “Please explain.”

“She's a fool. The relic isn't alive! It's merely an imitation. The thing she so desperately wants to preserve? It's nothing but a vessel. A beetle's carapace, a snake’s skin, something meant to be cast off.” Claiborne was practically seething. Hes body shook from head to toe with his frustration.

Cullen eyed him warily before looking to his comrades for confirmation to move forward with his interrogation. “Where is the relic now?”

“I locked it away, up above. I thought it wouldn't be able to hurt anyone up there alone...but I was wrong. I didn't think it could will a demon into this plain without my help, or at the very least a blood sacrifice. Perhaps it was the lyrium that made it possible...I would have loved to learn more about it.”

Claiborne sighed and shook his head. He nearly appeared remorseful. “Oh but I was so wrong...it killed them all...no one is safe now. The thorns, you saw them, outside the tower? They are _her_ doing you know! Come back from the dead. Just the same as her. Just the same. I swear I can see them moving sometimes. Crawling up the tower...moving on her skin. Moving _under_ her skin! The thorns will choke us out like weeds if we do not burn them down…”

Bull glared at the mage. “Her doing? It is a woman?”

Claiborne laughed. “In appearance only. As I said, it is only an imitation of life. The body is little more than a corpse…”

Cullen briefly placed his hand on Bull’s arm, silently beseeching him to remain calm. “Claiborne, I would like to see the relic for myself please.”

“Impossible,” Claiborne spat. “No one can go near it now. It is unstable. I can't predict the damage that your presence might inflict on it's abilities.”

Cullen cleared his throat and used his best templar voice. “Mage Claiborne, by the authority of the Inquisition, I must demand that you hand over this...relic, whatever it may be, at once.”

“Hand it over? Don't be a fool, it can't be allowed to leave the tower. It is a door, and there is no way of telling which way it will open, or when. I am the only one that can hope to master it.”

Cullen raised his voice. “We can not simply do as you ask without investigating the situation first.”

“Foolish boy, you are not listening! Never mind!” Claiborne shouted and drew his staff. A force of shades rose from the trash heaps, vicious and hungry.

“I can not allow you to interfere in matters you refuse to understand!”

“Look at what your way has accomplished. The other mages who trusted you, who looked to you for guidance? They're all dead now. It was your obsession that wrought this destruction. Give up now before someone else is hurt.” Bull spoke up.

“It was my magic that brought her to life, shaped her. I have worked far too long to lose it now, I won't let you take her from me!”

Claiborne raised his hands and sent the shades into action. They fell upon the trio with angry shrieks and rending claws.

Krem was knocked over by their force, but Bull moved between him and his attacker. He used the handle of his axe to block the creature and his weight to push it backwards while Krem regained his position.

“Thanks chief,” Krem called, slashing one of the beasts and causing it to move back.

Cullen fought two at a time, blocking one while jabbing his sword at another in perfect succession. He worked so methodically one might think his heart beat to the rhythm of combat. Perhaps it did.

Though the shades were not particularly strong, they were numerous and the battle was taxing.

Claiborne cast a few spirit bolts and made his way towards a heavily barricaded door. He limped as he walked, as if he had recently been injured.

Bull spotted him making his escape as he split a shade in half.“Cullen, we'll clear a path. You stop the twitchy mage.”

Cullen didn't confirm his agreement, he simply finished off his adversary and moved.

Krem bolstered his left and helped to create a gap for Cullen to slip through. If Cullen needed to retreat there was now nowhere for him to go.

Krem brought one of the shades down and bashed another with his shield.

“Krem, blast it all! It's not a weapon, don't swing it like one! Focus and block,” Bull bellowed, taking a swing at several of the shades at once.

“I'll swing it like my mother's good petticoat if it keeps these things back!” he shouted in return. “You can lecturer me later, provided we survive.”

Cullen buried his sword in one of the shades but lost his grip on the handle and was struggling to retrieve it. Claiborne was marking the door with his blood, no doubt intending to seal it shut. Cullen abandoned his blade and continued towards the mage. He bowled over another creature in his path before crashing into the mage.

“No! You don't understand! She can not be allowed to leave the tower! I will not let you take her from me!” Claiborne howled, doing his best to batter Cullen back.

“If you'd just be willing to talk!” Cullen puffed, trying to right himself and keep hold of the crazed mage.

“I won’t let you take my work from me! I won’t let you put us all in harm’s way!” Claiborne spit, releasing a burst of magical energy.

The blast knocked Cullen back and stunned his allies who struggled to hold their ground. The shades in the room began to lose their already lax shape. For a moment they appeared to melt and congeal on the wooden floor, then their black shadowy mass engulfed Claiborne, swallowing him up entirely.

Cullen scrambled for his sword and rejoined his comrades on the other side of the room.

“Maker damn him, it's too late,” he gasped out while trying to catch his breath. “Now we won't be able to learn what he knows about the relic.”

Bull shrugged and wiped shade goo off his hands onto his pants to avoid losing his grip. “We'll just have to hope he keep good notes then. Let's kill him and be done with it already. Get back too late and we'll miss supper.”

“Chief gets grumpy with an empty stomach. Best work quickly.”

Cullen sighed and steeled his nerves to fight the abomination.

The warped form of Claiborne had become a shifting mass of misplaced claws, tangled in a knotted pool of what appeared to be leeches. The tremendous amalgamation writhed and hissed from many deformed mouths and slammed its tentacles against the floor, shaking the tower.

“Maker have mercy on you,” Cullen whispered, raising his sword and charging the abomination.

Bull was just behind him. He let out a ferocious roar and sunk his axe deep into the monster's gelatinous flesh. There was an audible crunch, indicating he had struck bone. He stomped on a tentacle reaching for him and heaved against the body of the creature, pulling his axe free to make another strike.

Krem kept back a pace, clipping away at whatever reached for him and keeping an eye on his friends backs.

The abomination shrieked and tossed furniture about the chamber. The twisted claw that was once Claiborne’s hand swung at Cullen. He blocked the worst of it with his shield but the attack connected with his shoulder.

Cullen grunted through the pain and gouged the abomination in it's middle. It let out a pathetic whine and momentarily went limp.

Bull saw his opening and swung. He lopped off Claiborne’s arm and struck again, this time cutting into the beast’s rib cage. A thick rancid ooze gushed out of the creature’s wounds, caustic to the skin.

Cullen followed, bringing his sword down onto the area where the remaining human portions joined with the slithering malformed horror.The blow was so great that the creature was nearly split in two. The potent black sludge bubbled away and disappeared into a black smog. The creature fell to the floor and Cullen stood above it, panting.

When Claiborne’s body was all that remained he croaked out a strange sound and reached for Cullen. Cullen bent down and looked into his eyes. “I am sorry, but you left us no choice.”

Claiborne shook his head. “I do not deny my part in this. I have done the world a misdeed in my folly by creating that...abomination, up above. I didn’t...I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to...to make the door if it meant causing such destruction. But the tower...the tower demanded it.”

“The tower?”

“You can’t hear it now, but the children are still here, and they seek a path into our world. A path I unwittingly created for them. Such corrupted spirits can not be allowed to pass into our world, the death they would cause...I don’t know how much control she has over the gateway, and so, you must kill her before she opens that door. You are clearly a man of incredible resolve, you must use that resolve to see this through. Kill the relic and seal the door. In this way perhaps I can repent for my sins…do this, I beg of...I beg of...”

The mage then spasmed and gurgled on a mouthful of blood. The light flickered out of his eyes and it was apparent he had died.

Cullen stood and shook his head. “Is everyone alright?”

“‘Sides him? Yeah, all good here.” Bull announced.

Krem was panting, but joined the conversation. “What do you ‘sppose he meant? The tower demanded it?”

“Who knows, crazy mage talk…Cul?”

“Yes?”

“What's our next move?”

“I'm not sure...both Tirania and Claiborne seemed to believe they were telling the truth. While Tirania certainly seemed to be a bit more clear minded, we really have no reason to believe her over him. “

Bull nodded in agreement. “So maybe we just use our best judgment?”

“I suppose we can't simply leave without looking can we...very well, let's go and see this abomination of his.”

Bull, who was scarcely grazed, and Krem who hadn't been struck at all, opted to lift the door’s heavy barricade, allowing Cullen’s wounded shoulder a chance to rest. The door had several locks but a quick search of Claiborne’s body turned up the proper keys.

When the last of the locks clicked open the doors popped ajar. The old hinges gave a menacing screech and Krem jumped back a step.

A chilling cold wind whistled through the opening and a howling followed as air currents met and traveled back up the stairs.

Krem visibly shivered. “Any of you lot get the feeling that this may be a bad idea?”

“Nothing we've done so far has been a good idea. Why start thinking it through now?” Bull replied, jerking the doors open wide and beginning his ascension of the stairs.

This flight of stairs was only half as long as the last and was blocked off by a badly battered door. Something had desperately wanted to escape this room. Cullen unlocked and opened the door and Krem and Bull entered first.

The room was dim and dank. The only light came from the high thin windows above, or holes in the towers roof.

The chamber was vast, all one room, and surprisingly well organized. It appeared to be a lab of sorts. There were no large structures or objects which could provide cover to anyone in the room, so Cullen gave the all clear.

The room was divided in two parts by a row of thick iron bars, hammered into place and fused together in haste. They were clearly not an original feature of the tower. The bars were haphazardly draped in thick moth eaten curtains, that concealed what lay beyond.  
There was one table in the room, caked in blood and buzzing with flies, and one work desk. The only other structure in the room was a free standing rigging system bolted to the floor.

“Well well, what do you think they use this for?” Bull asked, wiggling his brow.

Cullen’s face wrinkled in distaste.“Cuffs, it must be torture.”

“Not if you do it right,” Bull purred. “Think I could get this through the door to my room Krem?”

“Stay focused,” Cullen hissed.

They moved deeper into the lab with caution. The damp and decay radiated from every surface. Musty books and parchment sat on mildew covered shelves and various potions and ingredients were scattered about the work space. Like the floor below there are also trays of unwashed dishes and spoiling bits of food, though they all seem untouched.

“There's nothing here?” Krem asked, attempting to scratch his head without bludgeoning himself with his shield.

Cullen slumped in his armor and frowned. “Surely not...there must be _something_ here.”

“In case you didn't notice, they were all a bit off their heads Cullen. Could be the relic is nothing but a lyrium induced fever dream. You know, there are these mushrooms that-"

“Not now Bull. Let's find a way inside that cage.”

Cullen inched near the cell, sword raised. He dragged the tip back and forth across the bars making a terrible clatter.

From within the cage there came a muffled yelp followed by a snuffling sound.

Iron Bull cupped his hand to his ear and leaned in. “Hey, you hear that?”

Cullen nodded and lowered his blade. “Yes…do you think-”

“I think the abomination is crying. Not exactly the ferocious monster we were promised. Hey, is…something in there?” Bull asked rapping on the bars.

The weeping became more muffled and they heard the rustle of something moving inside.

“It could be a trick,” Krem cautioned.

“Let's see if we can't get a better look then.” Bull approached the cage and ripped down a section of the curtains. A startled cry resonated from inside as well as the rustling of fabric.

“Still can't see it… but something tells me this ain’t no ordinary sort of abomination…”

Cullen searched through the keys he had taken from Claiborne but none of them fit the lock.

Krem sheathed his sword and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are we sure we even want to open this up? We have no idea what's in there.”

“It doesn't seem...dangerous,” Cullen commented with a strained note of optimism. “It's better to know what we're dealing with now, rather than later. Let's pop this thing open.”

After a few moments of rigging and planning, Cullen had wedged Iron Bull's axe in the door hinge.

“Look Bull, the door isn't on there that well, all you have to do is push,” he argued.

“All I'm saying is if you bust my axe, I'm going to break you over my knee…”

“Just push already,” Krem moaned, holding onto the bars.

Bull snorted and took hold of the axe handle. He pushed against the door and it creaked at the weight. Krem pulled on the bars and Bull threw his weight against the axe in full.

The door buckled under the weight and the hinges snapped. The door flung open falling to the floor with a deafening crash.

There was a moment of stillness after the sound faded away. No one wanted to be the first to move.

Finally Bull clapped his hands together and picked up his weapon. “Well alright then.”

Cullen patted his arm and strode past him into the room, sword at the ready.

Inside the cell there was a large bed as well as a few other pieces of furniture, mostly overturned and broken. The floor of the chamber was bare save for a damp scattering of straw and some broken glass and pottery. There appeared to be small amounts of blood on nearly every surface, even the bars.

Krem followed behind him, taking in the scene. “Maybe it’s gone? Hell maybe we already killed it.”

Cullen scanned the far end of the room. “Bull, does this cell look…lived in to you? By a person I mean.”

“It looks trashed to me, but you’re right, if some kind of abomination was being held here the place would probably be in a lot worse shape. The bed is still in one piece anyways.”

“My thoughts exactly….the bed…Ah look there!” Cullen hollered, pointing at the foot of the bed. “I think there is something there.”

Bull raised his voice to the darkness. “Hey, if you’re not a demon or an abomination or what have you, you should come on out. We won’t hurt you…Unless you’re a blood mage…”

Cullen shot Bull an annoyed look but a noise from within the cell kept him from voicing his disagreement. There was a clattering of a wooden bowl rolling across the floor, then the papery flop of a book falling to the stone.

A tiny dirt smeared face peered out from under the bed. It was difficult to tell between the dark and the dirt, but the face looked human enough, or at the very least, it did not seem demon like.

Cullen gasped. “Maker’s breath…is that a child?”

Krem furrowed his brow. “Well that is unsettling. Chief?”

“Do we let it out?” Bull asked scratching his chest.

Cullen worried his sword hilt and sighed. “We can’t just leave it in there.”

“Right then.” Bull said striding towards the bed. Frightened gasping cries erupted from under the bed and the face vanished from view.

“Wait! Cullen whispered. “You’re going to terrify the poor thing! It’s been surrounded by demons and abominations and…well…no offense but look at you…”

“The commander may have a point chief…your mug ain’t exactly the easiest to look at after a hard day of dealing with demons.”

Bull stopped and lowered his weapon. “Do you want to go and fetch whatever it is then Krem?”

“Me? Well I would, but commander Cullen would probably handle it best don’t you think?”

Cullen’s face betrayed his surprise, and his lack of enthusiasm. “Very well then.”

Cullen sheathed his sword and entered the room.“Come now, you needn’t be frightened,” he whispered soothingly, approaching the bed slowly. “I promise you won’t be harmed…”

Bull shook his head.“Who are you trying to convince Cullen, you or it?”

“Shh…quiet. Let it come to us…”

Cullen approached the left side of the bed and knelt down. “Excuse me…my-my name is Cullen Rutherford, I’m with the Inquisition. We can help you. Who are you?”

Bull laughed. “Yeah, that will work…”

After a few moments of silence Cullen sighed and reached under the bed. “It’s alright now you don’t have to be-Agh!”

Cullen withdrew his arm shaking his hand. “It bloody bit me!”

Krem snickered. “Through your gloves?”

“Well it still smarts…”

“Alright, this is going nowhere…” Bull groaned and approached the bed. He carelessly kicked a few things out of his path and squatted down at the right side of the bed. “Alright, you grab, I’ll flip.”

“What? No I don’t think that-”

“You want the kid or not?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then count of three, I’m flipping this bed.”

Cullen sighed.“Very well then…

“Krem, if the commander here slips up you block the door alright? Give that shield of yours some actual practice.”

“Are you sure you can flip this thing by yourself? It appears quite heavy,” Cullen asked, siding up to Bull on the right side of the bed.

“Heh, just be ready to grab the kid,” Bull assured him with a grin.

Bull grabbed the sturdy wooden bed by its frame and after a three count he flung the bed over. There was a terrible shrill scream muffled only slightly by the sound of the bed crashing to the floor. Cullen leapt forwards to snag the child but it was swifter than he, and scrambled out of reach.

“Blast! Krem!”

The child dashed across the room but was sent sprawling to the floor, hard, when the length of rope that was fastened around her ankle ran out. The child, likely a girl, cried out in pain. Her chin bashed the rough stone floor and the palms of her hands were scratched raw.

Bull and Cullen both traced the rope back to the bedpost where it was secured. “Shit, guess she can’t get away after all…”

“Maker…look at her…” Cullen whispered breathlessly.

Her pale skin was filthy, head to toe, with soot and dried blood. Her wrists were bandaged with tattered strips of cloth, likely ripped directly from the curtains that separated her cell from the rest of the world. The leg that had been tied to the bed was worn raw and scarred from what must have been months of being held captive.

Bull rubbed the back of his neck. “Damn…”

He stood and approached the girl. She scrambled away but could make no ground. Each footstep Bull took towards the girl was thunderous but he approached with a calm demeanor. The girl cried out and shielded herself. She shouted something in a language the three of them didn’t understand. Bull looked down at the girl with pity.

Her hair was as dark and dull as coal. It was as wild and littered with knots and mats. It had clearly gone unwashed for sometime. Stringy sections hung in her face and it cascaded over her shoulders like the waves of a polluted sea.

“Era’harel!” she hissed at him.

“Damn blood mages and their fucking demons…this is some messed up shit…” Bull muttered.

Cullen took a tentative step forward. “Bull…maybe I should…”

Bull bent down and crept closer to the girl. He reached his hand out towards her, but didn’t touch her, he simply held up his palm, waiting. The girl remained as she was, cowering and refusing to look up, so Bull spoke to her.

“It’s ok, those mage bastards are all dead now…no one left to hurt you.”

Again Cullen spoke. “Bull, are you sure-”

“Shh…the little one needs to calm down…we all need to make her feel calm.”

“Alright then, alright. You handle it then.”

“Go wait by Krem…let me talk to her a while.”

The girl was crying now, soft sniffles and hushed sobs, into her palms. Her body was trembling all over, and a line of fresh blood was dripping down her foot from the rope that held her in place. Bull let her cry.

“You don’t understand me huh?…Rare to find someone who doesn't speak the trade tongue. Doubt you speak any Qunlat, huh, Imekari?”

The girl did not respond.

“Didn’t think so. Let’s see, it wasn’t Orlesian, or Tevene…what else…ah well, it’s not important now. Plenty of ways to communicate without a language. It’d be a hell of a lot easier if you’d look at me though…”

“Too bad none of those damn mages warned us the ‘abomination’ was as dull as a post,” Krem whispered to Cullen.

“She’s just scared. She needs help and doesn’t know how to ask for it. Lot’s of people are like that Krem. You oughta know that,” Bull chided him.

The girl had quieted herself, as if she had grown used to being forced to turn off her emotions in order to focus on her survival. She was still cowering in her own arms, awaiting a beating that was not to arrive, or perhaps a far worse horror. She could not pull her legs in any closer due to the taut rope, and so she sat with one knee pressed to her chest, and her other bent out at an odd angle.

Cullen peered over Bull’s shoulder. “You should cut the rope, it’s hurting her.”

“Yeah, draw a blade near a panicked little girl, good plan. I’ll cut her loose when she comes to her senses.”

Bull reached forward tentatively and allowed his fingers to rest on her splayed calf muscle. The girl flinched and pulled in tighter to herself.

“There there…it’s over now little one. You don’t have to fight anymore.” Bull coaxed allowing his full palm to rest on her leg. They sat there that way for some time, neither the girl nor Bull moved. Finally she uncovered her face and looked at Bull. She whimpered with fear anew but did not hide herself away. She looked directly into Bull’s face.

“Theneras banal’ras! Ne harel, ar suledin,” she spat, glaring at Bull.  
Bull now saw her in full. Her sun and nourishment starved face bore a full tattoo of intricate design, in red ink. A fount of thick briar vines sprung from the space between her dark brows. They reached upwards, disappearing behind her hair.

A single thorny tendril coiled below each of her sharp green eyes, and lightly brushed the tops of her cheeks. The only rose that decorated the thorns, was the petite rosebud of her lips.

Bull cocked his head at her words. “Huh, well that’s interesting…I don’t think this is a kid.”

Krem pressed closer. “What? D’you mean you think she really is an abomination or some sort of demon then?”

“Dunno, but she has one of them Dalish tattoos on her face. What do they call it…Vallaslin, they only give them to elves that have come of age or whatever. Adults. She’s not a kid, she’s just small.”

Cullen stepped closer but Bull waved him back. “How do you know it’s Dalish? I’ve seen a few before. I don’t recognize those markings…”

“The style, the symmetry, if it isn’t really Dalish it was certainly an attempt to mimic the Dalish work. I bet that’s what she was speaking. Elvish.”

“She's eighteen? She's so small…”

Bull chuckled. "She's downright fucking tiny...even by elf standards. Then again....there's no proof she's eighteen."

“What do you mean? If she really is Dalish, eighteen years is when they typically receive their markings... right?”

“That's true, but it's not always the case. Their clan leaders...their keepers, they decide when a child is ready to be marked. Maybe she was marked early.” Bull stroked the girl’s leg, assessing the damage she had incurred.

Krem leaned against the bars to rest. “Why would they do a thing like that I wonder?”

“Could be she was ready...she could be what...sixteen years? fourteen? Maybe she was very mature for her age huh? Maybe she wasn't ready, but there was a reason she had to be marked early. Something to do with some god, or a family dispute, or a wedding. You don't see child brides among the Dalish too often but it happens from time to time. At least my charger says so anyways.”

Cullen squatted down by Bull, watching the girl. “She might not be Dalish at all. The mages could have marked her. Maybe she's a slave?”

Bull nodded. “Could be but...I donno...ever really looked into the eyes of a Dalish? There is something wild about them, something primal. Like a horse that refuses to be broken. For all the shit those damn mages must have put her through...she still has those wild eyes. Just look at her.”

As they spoke the girl began to sober from her fear. She regarded Bull with something more akin to confusion than terror.

“What’s the Dalish word for elf?” Bull asked Krem.

“Isn’t it elf, sir?”

Cullen thought a moment. “No, it’s…it starts with elf…

Bull adjusted his eye patch. “Elfan…Elfhen…Elvhen! It’s Elvhen.”

The girl’s eyes went wide and she stopped her silent tears.

“Ah, that did it didn’t it? You’re a Dalish elf aren’t you? Elvhen?”

The girl stared at Bull for a long time, dazed as if she had been struck down to the ground, then at last she nodded her head.

“Elvhen,” she echoed, fresh tears forming in her eyes.

Bull smiled at her and gently patted her leg. “That’s good, we’re getting somewhere. Do you think you can be calm if I untie you?” he asked pointing to the rope.

The girl made an exasperated sound and began to violently tug at the rope about her ankle. “Halani! Emma isala halani!”

“Alright alright, I said be calm…I don’t understand a damn word you’re saying…hold still little one. Hold still.”

Bull firmly took hold of the girl’s hands in one of his own and gently pulled them aside.

“Do you understand me? Calm…Calm.”

The girl squirmed for a moment but then it seemed she understood his intentions, as if through his touch alone. She grew still and watched his eye.

Bull released her hands and looked at the knot around her foot. It had been pulled quite tight in her struggling and it was covered in a film of dampness from the blood and sweat of her body.

“Shit…there’s no way my big fingers are undoing this fucking knot. Yours either. Needs cut…”

“After you lectured me about bringing a knife close to her?”

“Well now I’ve won some of her trust, maybe she’ll let me cut it.”

Bull drew out a small knife from his boot cuff, small only because it was dwarfed by his gigantic hand, and pointed at the rope. “Ok elvhen, I'm going to cut you loose, but I need you to stay calm. Don't go kicking me in the nose or anything…”

“Calm…” the girl repeated.

“That’s right, that’s good.” Bull smiled and rubbed her knee gently.

He reached for the rope with the knife ready but the girl flinched away. “Damn it kid, you’re gonna make me cut you…what happened to calm?”

“Enfanim!” She cried, pointing at the knife.

“You’re scared of this…ok, understandable…sure as hell looks like you’re familiar with being on the wrong end of one. Damn this is a shit fest Cullen, thanks for this.”

“Hey chief? What’s that you said about uh…about dealing with hostile targets? Give them what they want right?”

“Right…”

Cullen stared at Krem in disbelief. “Are you suggesting we give her the knife? That’s reckless, she’s clearly not stable, there’s no telling what she might do with it.”

“Uh…stabbing one of us comes to mind,” Bull grumbled. “but…”

“She could hurt herself, Bull, it’s a bad idea.”

“It’s a bad situation Cullen. Gimmie a bit…maybe I can give her the knife without actually handing it over.”

Krem laughed humorlessly. “Right then, how the hell do you plan on doing that?”

“Quiet Krem. Let’s watch and see.”

Bull held the knife across both his palms. He held his palms flat, so that the girl could see the blade, but he did not present the blade to the girl. Bull then set the blade on the floor and touched the girl’s ankle. She yelped in both pain and surprise.

“I know little one…it hurts..”

Bull picked at the knot with his large fingers then pointed at the knife.

“I can help you, you understand? But you have to let me.”

Bull reached for the girl’s hand and after a few moments of hesitation she allowed him to take it. For a few moments he simply held her hand between his thumb and his two good fingers. When she seemed calm under his touch he guided her hand down towards the handle of the blade.

She squirmed, Bull stopped. He held her hand again, rubbing her cold blistered knuckles with his thumb. Tried again. This time she allowed him to press her hand flat to the ground, over the blade’s handle.

“See, it’s safe…it’s in your hand, you’re in control.”

The girl looked up into Bull’s eye as if trying to discern just what it was that he wanted of her. Bull only smiled and squeezed her hand, urging her fingers to coil around the knife. Her grip was sloppy and weak, as if she had never held a blade before, as if she even lacked the strength to do so now.

Bull curled his own fingers over the handle and compressed the girl’s hand into the proper shape.

“Tightly little one…if your grip is soft you will only succeed in harming yourself when it slips from your hand. Now then…”

Bull guided the blade towards the rope bound around her ankle and with his free hand he pinched the knot in place.

“Now we just have to cut it alright…”

The girl allowed her arm to go limp in Bull’s grip and he began to cut away at the rope.

“Well I’ll be damned…” Cullen whispered, absentmindedly touching Krem’s shoulder.

The rope cut free with a soft snap and the girl scrambled to pull away from Bull, who still had his hand wrapped around hers.

“No little one, calm…calm.”

“Calm…” she repeated stilling herself once more.

“That’s it. Good.” Bull smiled at the girl and loosened his grip slightly.

With his free hand he took hold of the blade between his thumb and forefinger and pulled it from the girl’s grip.

He returned the knife to his boot and presented his empty hands to the elf. She regarded him with apprehension and curiosity both.

Instinctively her hands clamored for the abused flesh of her ankle. She smoothed it over with her fingers and dug at the damaged skin with the desire to dull the pain.

“Yes yes, it hurts. Nothing we can do about that just yet.”

“I still have the elfroot chief,” Krem reminded him.

“I think her foot has a break. Needs to be set first.”

Bull took up the girls icy hands once again and rubbed them between his palms. “Krem, Cull, back up. I’m bringing her out.”

“Isn’t she gonna start kicking and screaming?” Krem asked, backing up as he was told. “And biting?”

Cullen wrinkled his nose and Bull laughed.

“Nah…I think she’s done fighting. I think she understands.”

Suddenly the elf slid her hand from Bulls and reached for his face. She allowed her fingers to caress his forehead, where skin met keratin. Bull chuckled softly but didn’t brush her aside.

She laid her palm flat and felt over the scars on Bull’s brow and his eye patch.

“Sa inan…Tu bora?” she asked, a pained look on her face.

“I lost my eye, is that what you’re talking about? It’s ok, I don’t miss it much.”

Her fingers then wandered to Bull’s horns. She let her fingernails drag over the thick bone then she griped one by the base and gently pulled.

“They’re real, I promise,” Bull chuckled and gently removed her hand.

Bull stood and the girl flinched away, but Bull lowered his hands to her and she reached for them.  
“I thought so…” he muttered before bending down and scooping her up like a sack of laundry.

She screamed and kicked but Bull pulled her tight to him and pushed her head to his chest and she went quiet.

“There. I thought that’s all you needed.” He mumbled to her softly. “Cullen, Krem, let’s move.”

Cullen smiled at him. “I didn't know you had such a way with children. Iron Bull. Maybe I should turn my recruits over to you for training after all.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to say things are picking up here! Hope you all enjoy!

Bull left the cell, girl in hand. Cullen and Krem looked her over with mild distrust.

“Are we…taking her with us?” Krem asked.

Bull gave a half shrug. “What would you suggest? Leave her here?”

Cullen bit his lip, thinking over his words. “No but…can we really just take her back to Skyhold? We supposed to be out here in the first place.”

Krem slid his sword away and began to investigate the cell.“If anyone asks we’ll say she’s like, a refugee or something we picked up on the road. Ain’t got to say where we found her.”

Cullen didn't like that plan. “Lie to the Inquisitor?”

“It’s not lying if he doesn’t ask…”

Bull shrugged. “You already lied to him when we came out here right? Besides, he’s not the type for rules anyways. Don’t think he’ll bring the axe down too hard on us.”

Bull looked down at the girl. She was so dreadfully light. He could feel that her forehead burned with fever. She needed someone's care, desperately. “But, if you don’t want her at the keep, fine. We’ll take her back to The Herald’s Rest with us.”

“That’s no place for a child,” Cullen rebuffed him.

“According to that tattoo, she’s not a child.”

“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything about her at all. The mages said she was an abomination, and even if that isn’t true, she is… she clearly isn’t well.”

Bull hefted the girl into the crook of his arm, collected his axe, and starred Cullen down. “Either way, we can’t leave her here. Let’s get her out in the fresh air. We can talk there.”

Cullen silently conceded to this and began to search the lab for anything useful.

Bull ripped down another section of the curtains and sat the girl on the work table to set about assessing her injuries. She was clothed in nothing more than an undergarment, a torn and bloody drawstring bed shift, making her flesh readily accessible for examination.

Something had gone dim in her when Bull had held her. She sat rather idle while he checked her over.

There was evidence of previous trauma about her face. A blackened eye. A swollen jaw bone. Her freshly gashed chin to add to that.

Bull pried her jaw open and felt for missing or broken teeth. An abscess could be just as fatal as any wound. He didn't find anything, but the elf bit down twice before he could finish his search. Cullen was right, she bit like a rabid mabari, and it did smart.

Removing the strips of cloth from her hands revealed evidence of prolonged bondage. Rope burns, bruises, and scars, but nothing immediately threatening. That explained the rigging system at least.

He pulled back her hair to examine her neck and shoulders. Five horizontal bruises on either side told that she had been hand strangled in the past day or so.

There was also a notch cut into the top of one of her ears. This was long healed. Slaves were sometimes marked this way to make them easy to identify.

“Have you been stolen from your clan little one?” he asked her, expecting no answer.

Bull lifted her garment up her legs to find welts and cuts. All likely incurred from torture sessions with Claiborne. Bull felt a low angry growl rise through him.

“Who could be so cruel to something so defenseless? This whole thing makes me sick…”

On top of all of these ailments the girl was bone thin. She had been starved, deliberately, just enough to make her too weak to fight back.

Bull shook his head and clucked his tongue quietly. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. Just look at you...where to begin? Your foot. Have to set that break. I got a feeling you're not going to like that…” he muttered, lifting her leg and examining the injury.

Bull found the small fracture and sighed. “It's not as recent as I'd hoped. This is going to hurt little one.”

Bull braced himself for whatever screaming and scratching the girl might perform and forced the bone back in place.

Remarkably, only a shrill long whine escaped her lips before she bit down on Bull’s shoulder. Bull grunted but focused on the task at hand. When he had the bone in place he wrapped the foot in cloth from the curtain. As the pain waned the elf released her grip. She hadn't drawn blood, but had been close.

“Krem, we could use that elfroot now.”

Krem obligingly delivered the half full bottle and looked the girl over.

“She gonna make it Iron Bull? She doesn't look so good…”

Bull uncorked the bottle and forced her mouth open again to get her to drink. He made sure she took every last drop.

“I think so. She's strong, I can tell. She has strong teeth anyways.”  
Bull wished he had some food and water to give the girl but they had left that all behind with the horses.

“We’ll get you looked after, be patient.”

Bull examined the jars sitting on the work space and withdrew one. “Here, this’ll help with the pain. Think we can get her to swallow it?”

“Without getting bitten? Not likely.”

“Right…”

Bull placed the dropper to her lips and remarkably she took the medicine. She must have learned it dulled pain a long time ago.

Cullen pocketed a few notes and rejoined the other men.

“Claiborne didn't leave much behind. I think he destroyed his research to prevent others from using the gateway. It-she...is too dangerous to turn loose. She will have to return to Skyhold with us. There is no other way.”

“Fine by me,” Bull replied. He wrapped the little elf up in the curtain he had pulled down and returned her to his arms. She looked drowsy now. The pain had apparently sapped the last of her strength.

They made their way back to the library. Tirania’s body sat before the fire, unblinking, but peaceful. No one closed her eyes but all were quiet upon their exit.

On the next floor Bull stopped to search the sleeping quarters for clean clothing for the girl. The first room they searched was found to be the men's quarters. Bull helped himself to a rucksack, a fur covering, and a rough spun blanket. He attempted to locate something edible, but the only thing that had kept was a bottle of liquor, which he took for himself.

Across the hall was the female dormitory.

“For a load of apostates they sure kept things close to the circle don't you think?” Krem asked. “You'd think they'd want to change it.”

“Change often feels like chaos when one is so accustomed to a particular order,” Cullen said, investigating a bedside table strewn with letters.

“Uh...right.”

Then there was a sound, one reminiscent of a clawed foot on stone, and suddenly it was upon them. A malformed demon, bearing characteristics of both a dog and a drake, but resembling neither particularly well.

At its heels was a female mage, her arm bearing clear symptoms of red lyrium corruption. She shrieked with rage at the sight of them and in ran two more mages, either mad or possessed.

“Maker! Where did they come from?” Cullen shouted, drawing his blade just in time to fend off the snapping jaws of the demon.

Bull tossed the girl onto a bed and rushed to meet the combatants. “They must have come from the cellar. Probably been looking for us. Damn!”

Bull took the attention of the demon off of Cullen, who in turn took on the lyrium addled mage. Krem did his best to keep the attention of the other two combatants but the surprise attack had left them all fumbling.

Bull cast nervous glances towards the girl who watched on in pure bewilderment. While he nor his comrades were considered out matched by their adversaries, it was a fairly even fight. Any misstep they made could prove to be disastrous.

Krem battered one of the mages to the ground and whirled around to fend off the other. The trounced mage, annoyed by his failed attack turned his attention to the girl on the bed.

“Krem, the kid!” Bull shouted, unable to pull his bracer free from between the demon’s teeth where it was lodged.

Cullen too was on the back foot, unable to divert his attention to help the girl.

Krem moved too late, the mage fell upon the girl with dagger drawn. A shattering scream erupted from her and then a spray of blood spattered the sheets.

Bull squeezed his eye shut and turned back to the demon. He had no desire to see the girl die.

He still had not broken free of the beast’s grip and so with his free hand he gouged out one of its filmy gray eyes.

Krem caught hold of the mage on the bed and dug his blade deep into his back. The mage slumped over, still, but Krem couldn't move the body, as the other mage was already upon him.

The demon had released Bull's arm and immediately regretted the decision. Bull brought his axe down just below the creature’s shoulder blade.

The creature screeched and tried to back away but it had been crippled rather severely. It continued to lash out with its teeth and Bull went for the tendon in it's back leg.

Cullen was trapped in a delicate dance with the lady mage. She was obviously powerful and would require his full concentration to defeat.

Fire spells coupled with willpower sapping hexes seemed to be her spells of choice. The fire, though frightfully hot, was less threatening than the hexes. Her dark foreboding curses weighed on him heavier than he anticipated.

Her onslaught Of spells was not his greatest concern. She was an incredibly defensive fighter. He could not manage to find a large enough opening to deal any significant damage to her.

She had just avoided yet another attack when a miraculous stroke of luck befell Cullen. The demon, in an attempt to avoid Bull's axe, slammed into a support column. The entire tower shook and a rumbled. The splitting and crumbling sound of stone filled the air above them, and without further warning, Terania’s library came crashing down on top of the mage.

Cullen dived out of the way but the mage could not. She let out a startled scream, then disappeared under splintering wood, stone bricks, and books with broken spines. It was possible she yet survived, but Cullen didn’t care to investigate at the moment. He turned on his heel and stuck the demon in its soft underbelly. In its attempts to avoid Bull it had apparently overlooked his presence. It howled and whirled to snap at Cullen’s blade when Bull finally caught it in the hind leg. It collapsed to the floor, yowling and snarling, but to pained and blind to be of much threat any longer. Culled slipped his sword into the creature's throat, then delivered a final blow to its skull.

Bull, seeing that the matter was handled, dropped his axe, hooked his arm around the still standing mage’s neck, and squeezed. The mage gagged and dropped his staff. He clawed at Bull’s arm to no avail. Bull tightened his grip and twisted. The mage’s neck snapped and his body fell limp. Bull threw the body to the ground, his expression grim.

“Everyone alright?” he asked, staring at the bloody mess on the bed.

Cullen looked over the pile of rubble for signs of life. “Yes, miraculously.”

Krem sighed. “Damn...poor girl.”

Bull took a step towards the bed. “Do we leave her here? Doesn’t seem right to me but…”

“I’m not sure. The Dalish...The Dalish don’t burn their dead do they?”

They stood around the bed, unsure of how to proceed, when there was a faint rustling on the bed.

“Balls, he still alive is he?” Krem asked grabbing hold of the mage and rolling him to the floor. He did not stir. The girl crushed into the bedding however, did. She shot up, and spit. Blood and small pieces of skin and tissue shot from her mouth. She coughed and gagged, but was not sick.

“Well would you look at that,” Bull laughed out.

The mage, thoroughly soaked with blood, had an injury they had not previously seen. A gaping ragged hole had been torn into his neck.

Bull stuck his finger into the hole and felt its depth. “She tore his fucking throat out with her teeth. Basalit-an...most impressive little one.”

She was panting and primal. Bull patted her back and pulled her blood slicked hair away from her face. She looked up and met his gaze. Her face was painted in blood, making the green of her eyes all the more vibrant. Her gaze was fiery, almost angry.

Bull snorted, almost didn't believe his eyes. She was disappointed in them. Angry they had failed to keep her out of their mess.

Bull was relieved she was more that a frightened husk, but didn't know that he cared for her new attitude either.

“Good heavens, look at her,” Cullen murmured. “She’s soaked…”

Bull grinned, “Yeah, but you gotta admit, red is a good color on her.”

Cullen rolled his eyes.

“I’ve heard of whores taking the ears off of rough customers or non paying ones. Seen plenty of nasty bites on the battlefield too. Cheeks, eyes even, bitten clean through. Never seen a throat torn out like that though. Not by a person anyways. Must have taken more than one bite right? Surely. See, I told you Krem, she’s strong.”

The girl swiped and pawed at her mouth with her grubby hands, but cleaned very little from her face. Realizing there was nothing to be done for it, she went still.

Cullen sheathed his blade and addressed the others. “We need to get a move on. The tower is less stable than we thought. I don't fancy ending up like that mage.”

“Right, right. Krem, help me look for a trunk that's still intact. The girl needs clothed.”

“Right chief.”

They found three trunks. One was packed full of books. Krem nearly shut the chest without any further investigation when he saw a piece of blue green terry cloth peeking out of one of the corners. Krem dug some of the books out of his way and pulled the wrapped package free. Upon unfolding the fabric he found it was a handwritten diary.

“Oy, Commander Cullen. You'll be wanting to see this,” he called, flipping it open to find the name Sargentus Claiborne printed on the first page.

“What is it?” Cullen asked stepping closer. “Ah I see-this is-Joseal must have stolen this to show the other mages, to garner their support. She wanted to aid Terania’s mutiny.” Cullen took the book and examined it.

“What’s in it?” Krem asked.

“It's Claiborne’s notes...they...they detail his experiments with well...with her.”

Bull frowned. “What sort of details?”

Cullen turned pages, skimming their information, then grimaced. “Unpleasant ones. Nevertheless, this log could prove useful. Excellent work Aclassi.”

Krem nodded and continued his search. The next chest Krem opened was entirely filled with garments. Robes, tunics, dressing gowns and night clothes. These were extravagant garments of the highest quality. There were Orlesian frock dresses, Antevian head scarves, and fine Ferelden furs. An intricately carved jewelry box was nestled among the items. It contained mostly earrings but also several necklaces and even a fine hair pin.

“Well now, if it was clothing you were after, we've got it. Bloody hell, everything in this trunk is probably worth more coin than what we pulled off the dead in here all together. She must have been a noble from Tevinter.”

“Or one of their pets. Anything sized for a skeleton in there?” Bull grumbled.

“Nothin that wouldn't need some serious alterations. I'd only butcher em without the proper tools. It'd be a damn shame to waste any of this fine fabric chief. Best we kept looking?”

“Yeah yeah, alright, don't go getting all nose in the air about it like the other Vint yeah?”

Krem shrugged and began to pack the garments in a soft sided bundle.  
Bull flipped open the lid to a smaller chest, finding it filled with all sorts of personal mementos and trinkets. Toy knights, a jar of sweets, letters from far off friends and family, all signed with love to Aramult.

Cullen examined the contents of the chest over Bull’s shoulder. “She was...cherished, it appears. This girl who fell from the tower. It is a shame to know she will be so dearly missed.”

Bull nodded in agreement and collected the jar of sweets. Beneath it was a square of folded cloth. Bull pulled it from the chest and found it to be a small robe in a deep shade of claret. It was embroidered with golden thread in a pattern of ivy vines and its golden clasps mimicked butterflies. It was gently worn, most probably formal wear for special occasions.

Beneath it was a hidden dagger and the fine leather strapping that accompanied it. The blade was dainty, as thin as a lady's finger, and likely Orlesian by make. The hilt and grip of the weapon were decorative, the butterfly featured again, this time its wings were set with rubies. It had likely been a gift, meant for show, but the steel was of good quality. It might not have ever drawn blood, but it certainly could.  
Bull collected the knife as well. It could be sold at the very least. It served no one by remaining behind.

“Hey, think you could hem this up Krem-da-la-Krem?”

“Let me have a look,” Krem answered, taking the robe and looking it over. “ Humm...it won't be as pretty, you'll lose that delicate detail at the edges…”

“Krem.”

“Yes, alright, I can hem it up without much fuss.”

“Alright then. What do you think little one? Can we make this work?” Bull asked the girl.

Her expression did not change. She continued to look on in distrust, too weary to do anything else.

Bull plodded over to where she sat on the bed. If the blood and the death disturbed her, she hid it quite well.

“You must understand we're looking after you, somehow. Can you actually understand what we're saying? Or is it instinct. You seem intuitive enough.”

He watched her for a while. She stared back, scarcely blinking.

“Those eyes, so green...they burn like fade fire. If you stared at that mage, Claiborne, with eyes like that, well...I can almost see why he wanted to hurt you. It's like you're issuing a challenge. Like you're daring someone to try and put out that fire. I'm glad he failed. The world could use fire like that.”

“Dorf era, garas quenathra?” she whispered, softening her stare. She looked him over with apprehensive curiosity. Her eyes kept wandering back to his horns, they apparently fascinated her.

“If you’ve been living here in the mountains all your life, I don’t suppose you’d have ever seen a Qunari before. That’s what I am. Qunari, or...at least...I was. They call me tal-vashoth now...Too bad Solas isn't here. I bet he could understand you.”

Bull shook his head and turned to face the room.

“Right...Cullen, should we head out?”

“There is a lot more here I’d like to investigate...but the structure is...unstable. I’ll concede to move on.”

“Hey-o Krem! We’re movin out.”

“Yes sir,” Krem acknowledged, shouldering the pack and moving for the door.

Bull reached for the elf and she wrapped her arms around his neck to make the task easier.

“Good girl, that's the way,” he said in a soothing tone, tucking her into the crook of one arm again.

They proceeded to the towers exit with caution. If one batch of mages had been lying in wait, another could just as easily do the same. Bull collected stale bread from the room that served as the larder and stuffed a piece in his mouth before grabbing a hunk of cheese and a bottle of wine and wrapping them up for the road.

“Honestly Bull?” Cullen hissed.

“Don’t think the little one will get hungry on the way back? You’re right, she’s gone who knows how long she’s gone without a decent meal, what’s a little more?”

“Alright, alright, you’ve made your point. Take the food.”

They returned to the stairwell and hadn’t gone far when the girl began to fuss. She was murmuring and shifting in Bull’s grasp.

“Hush little one, we’ll be gone soon enough. We’ll get you cleaned up and fed, and you can get some rest yeah? You’ll feel better then. I promise.”

“What’s the matter with her now?” Krem asked, drawing near to her to get a better look.

“I think she’s got a fever from infection. She might be hallucinating. Won’t be a problem if we can get her some more elfroot.”

Her fussing grew worse. She struggled against Bull’s arms, pushed his face away with her palms, dug her elbow into his chest.  
“Easy now, it’s ok. Knock that off.”

But she continued to behave frantically. If she had the strength left she might have put up a real struggle, but as it was she was little more than a mewling kitten. Still she fought on, her voice becoming more desperate.

“Cullen, the girl is having a melt down. Maybe we wait up for a second?”

“We can’t do anything for her here. Best we kept moving I think.”

“Easy for you to say, you aren’t the one carrying her.”

As they approached the bottom of the last set of stairs the girl began to kick and her murmured confused rambling devolved into plain whimpering. Then, the tower gave a shake, followed by a howling wind that flowed from the top of the tower to the bottom. On the wind there was a strange sound, one that was not natural. The sounds of children, sobbing.

The three warriors, stopped in their tracks, listening to the ghastly sound. Even the elf went still.

“What, in Andraste’s holy name, was that?” Cullen asked, hand on his blade at the ready.

Krem snorted. “Take a guess Commander. Weren’t you the one that said this place was haunted? Bloody hell, this is dandy,”

“Krem, pipe-down and keep moving,” Bull ordered.

But they didn’t get the chance to move forward.

The air in the the room swirled with malicious energy. Ethereal chains coiled over the secondary door, blocking their exit.

Bull frowned. “Commander?”

“Hold your ground, and be ready,” Cullen answered.

Krem drew his sword. “Ready for what?”

“At this point...anything.”

Bull reached for his axe just as the elf landed a kick to his inner thigh. Bull grunted, his grip loosened, and the girl slipped free.

“Why you little sharp toothed-”

“Iron Bull!” Cullen griped.

“Well she fights dirty!”

The girl scrambled around Cullen and ran for the door that lead to the entry way. She crashed against it and began to beat it with her fists. She was screaming, not words, just guttural screams of rage.

“What in the name of the Maker is wrong with her?” Krem asked, looking for the source of the crying.

“Isn't it obvious? She wants out…”

Then the swirling energy in the room began to concentrate in the center. Cullen put himself between the girl and the growing energy source. Slowly, slithering, shifting, the energy took shape. Indistinct at first, then there were faces. Four round filthy faces with sunken glowing eyes.

“Cullen,” Bull hissed, “I ever tell you I hate when you’re right?”

“I’m beginning to wish it were a less frequent occurrence myself.”

The faces developed bodies, and with them hands. Hands reaching and clawing. Though they were in the same room as Cullen and his soldiers they seemed trapped behind some sort of unseen membrane.

“It’s as if...they are trying to claw their way through, to our side.”

“Orders?” Krem asked.

“Swing first, ask questions later,” Bull suggested.

But it was the elf who moved first. She advanced towards the spirits, fists clenched. She shouted them down. Screamed at them vicious words, not in Dalish, but in a language more foreign still.

In response one of them sent her sailing backwards with a gust of foul wind. Cullen caught her and heard her next words.

“Din’len, tel eth. Ar las ne hamin…” she whispered. The tower shook again and stones from over head shook loose. The fallen stones clattered over the cobbled floor, bouncing and skittering in all directions. Pebbles pinged off of armor.

“Maker protect us,” Cullen breathed. “This whole thing is going to come down on us.”

Briar wrested free from Cullen’s grip. She stepped to the spirits again with animosity in her eyes. She did not yell, but her voice was strong and commanding. She was ordering them to something.

Enraged by her words, the eldest daughter reached out and took hold of the elf’s slender wrist. She twisted it, forcing the elf girl’s arm into an odd angle. The elf screamed in pain and fell to her knees.

Cullen attempted to rush the spirit but something kept him back, like a barrier he could not see.

“Step away from it kid, come on,” Bull said on strained breath.

“You will open the gate,” the ghost child demanded.

“Banal,” the elf spat back.

“We will be free, you will not stand in our way.”

Cullen choked down a wave of emotions. “The children, all that time, trapped in this tower, it has twisted them. They are children no longer.”

“Open the gate!” the ghost shrieked, tightening her grip.

“Ma nuvenin,” the elf replied.

The tower shook with tremendous force. The pressure on the room seemed to drop, and there was a creaking crackling sound all around. Suddenly, the stones beneath the ghost child slid loose, pushed aside by a thick black coil of thorns.

The vine whipped in the air, growing up into the room at a rapid pace. It wrapped around the child’s arm and squeezed. To the ghost’s surprise, and the surprise of Cullen and his party, the thorns bit into her long dead flesh, drawing blood. Before the ghost could think to pull away, she was tossed aside, crashing into her siblings.

“Those are...the thorns from outside, the ones planted by the Chantry sisters. But, how?” Cullen asked, his sword hand lowering.

“You! How dare you!” the ghost child yelled, collecting herself and clutching her injured arm. A thick black liquid oozed out of her wounds. Where the thorns cut, her skin had turned to a smoldering ash like substance. There glew, within, green embers.

The spirit rose, as if it intended to strike the girl, but the thorns had encircled her.

“Is...is she doing this? The elf?” Krem asked Cullen.

“She is, as far as we know, a fade relic, I suppose it is possible.”

“She-She has to be a mage right? Just, a really powerful mage…”

“No incantation, no grimoire, no staff. She’s no mage,” Cullen answered.

The elf clambered to her feet, and with her rose the vines. She did not control them, but they moved to her protection all the same. They collided with the spirit, sweeping her and the other tainted specters to the floor. Like snakes, the vines coiled over them, biting into their translucent flesh.

The spirits howled with rage and struggled to free themselves, but the more they fought the more entangled they became.

The tower continued to shake, knocking loose larger and larger stones. Support beams could be heard snapping above.

“We have to get out of here, now!” Cullen shouted.

Cullen and the others looked on in disbelief until a thick branch crashed into the blocked door, knocking it and its framing free.

“Bull!” Cullen yelled.

“I see it!” Iron Bull replied, barreling through the room and snatching up the little elf.

The vines nearly covered the children now, black sludge, ran over the floor and pooled in stagnant puddles.

The three men rushed outside, and kept running. The tower was crashing down all around them. The black vines had climbed a great deal of the tower's walls and were pulling it apart stone by stone.

When they at last reached a safe distance from the destruction, they turned about, and watched the tower fall. It fell in stages, collapsing in on itself rather than toppling to the side.

When the dust cleared it was obvious that nothing remained. The vines shifted the earth, pulling the stones beneath the soil with them before disappearing completely.

“Andraste’s flaming ass,”Krem huffed, dropping his sword and trying to catch his breath.

Cullen walked towards where the tower had been, whispering a quick prayer, either for the children, or for his sanity.

“Did she-I mean, she must have-but how?” Krem sputtered.

“She definitely had something to do with that. Cullen is right though, she's no mage. She wasn't controlling those things. Just like she wasn't controlling the demon after it crossed into our world...”

“How the hell did she-"

“The gateway,” Bull interrupted. “What did that mage say? The gate had to want to open? Guess it wanted to.”

Krem sighed and kicked a clod of dirt.“We really screwed the pooch on this one.”

Bull set the girl on the ground, holding her by the shoulders. She was not there. Her eyes were glazed over. She stumbled and slumped against Bull’s arms, she couldn’t stand on her own. Her skin was slick with sweat and her breathing was shallow.

“She’s just holding on here, we need to get something in her,” Bull announced, taking her back up and marching towards the now spooked horses. Cullen finished his prayers and followed.

First Bull let her drink from a skin of water. She promptly regurgitated it into the dry grass. The vomit was red and frothy. She had apparently  
swallowed a great deal of blood when she had torn through the mage. Bull patted the girl’s back then offered her another drink. This time she kept it down.

Bull used the water and a scrap of cloth to wipe the girl's face, leaving an oddly white ring of clean skin around her mouth.

He then flipped open one of Cullen’s saddle bags and uncorked an elfroot potion. This time Bull gave her the bottle in portions. She didn’t fight him on it and when it was gone he laid her over his shoulder.

“Cullen. What's the plan?”

“I-We should...I don’t know. Do you...do you think she is dangerous?”

“Dangerous? Yeah, probably. Most people are when you push ‘em too far. If you're asking if I think she is inherently dangerous, I guess I'd say she's at least as dangerous as a mage. Maybe less than that. She can open and close that door at will. A mage sure as shit can't do that.”

Cullen sighed. “Is she...is she too dangerous to bring with us to Skyhold?”

“Fucking shit, are you asking me if I think we should kill her here? Because, no, I don't think we should do that.”

“It's a grim situation Iron Bull. Maker guide me. I suppose she did just help us escape. We bring her to the Inquisitor then. We simply admit to what transpired, and turn her and those notes over to him. Let him decide what to do with her.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Poor kid, always having to clean up everyone else's messes. You couldn't have picked anyone better than Trevelyan, but...It's still a shit deal for him.”

“I see the difficulty he faces each day. He copes surprisingly well.”

Cullen paused, breathing in the early evening air. “Seeing as how we will now have to admit our failure to follow the chain of command, and the state of the girl...We can't-We’ll have to make camp out here for the night. We can’t bring her back to Skyhold like that.”

“You sure Cul? That wasn't the plan. We didn’t exactly prepare for a night out in the cold.”

Cullen shot Bull an amused and chastising look. “When did you become so dainty Iron Bull?”

“I’m not. It’s the girl I’m concerned about. She needs a hot meal, a hot bath, and most importantly she needs to see a healer.”

“I would like to return as soon as possible, and I agree it would be best to get the girl somewhere safe...but bringing her back in that condition...perhaps the Inquisitor would judge the situation more thoughtfully if she was not covered in blood.”

“Fair point.”

Bull turned towards the now empty field and cupped his hand to his mouth. “Krem, move your ass, we're leaving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: This story was originally called Horns and Thorns as a joke. A friend of mine liked it so it stuck, though it was eventually altered. 
> 
> I also wanted to say I'm really excited to write a more traditionally feminine style character in a world where we typically only get to experience tough fighter types via the player character. I hope you find her as interesting to read as I do to write her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So hey lovely readers, I just wanted to let you know I'm thinking about making playlists on Spotify for my fics. Is that a thing people do? Would anyone care to listen to it anyways? Idk. Thoughts?

There was a lake nearby, a small one, fed by the ice cold rivers that spilled from the Frostbacks. It wasn't an ideal campsite, but it had fresh water in abundance, and a beautiful view.

The three men had been riding for well over two hours, and it was here that Cullen slowed his horse. His arm was slung around the sleeping elf, whose head knocked against his chest, sans breastplate. He had tried to keep her from slouching forward or falling off the horse, but it had started to tire him out. If the elf had been conscious she no doubt would have put up a fight about riding with the commander. Bull’s horse was too large for her to ride, but for side saddle, which she was not capable of, being unconscious.

“What about here?” Cullen asked his party.

“By the water? Gonna be damn cold.”

“Yes but the nights have been milder of late, and you did take extra coverings from the tower. Besides the girl can clean up easy enough here.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right. Best get to it then. We’re going to need a lot of firewood to last us the night.”

They dismounted, Cullen handing Bull the girl before dropping off himself. Krem unpacked the horses and took them to drink. Bull laid the girl in the grass atop the roughspun blanket he had previously secured. She never even woke.

Bull cut branches for kindling with a small hand axe and then set about chopping up a felled tree for fuel.

“This is a shit idea,” he told Cullen, who was testing the spring of a small crossbow he had unloaded from the horses. “This wood is just about all on the side of too wet or too green to burn. We’re gonna freeze to death on the shores of a nameless lake, on an unsanctioned mission, and effectively kill the world’s only known fade relic.”

“Does he always complain like this out on the road?”Cullen shouted to Krem.

Krem laughed. “Only when he's hungry and sober.”

“Well with any luck, I'll be able to solve at least half of that equation.” Cullen shouldered the bow and set off to find what game frost and wolves had not already taken.

Bull built up the fire, returning to the trees until he felt confident they had enough wood to last them till morning.

Krem unsaddled the horses and unpacked what few supplies they had brought with them before beginning the alterations on the robe.

The elf slept by the fire, murmuring and sighing, but not without peace.

Bull sat beside her, stacking the wood as quietly as he could manage.

“Wonder how long she was kept there?” he asked Krem. “She's got some nasty scars the elfroot couldn't fix. Must have been a while.”

“Lucky we found her then. Probably couldn't have lasted much longer on her own.”

“What do you think the boss will do with her?”

“I dunno, you know him better than I. Send her back to the Dalish?”

“Might be what's best for her. Then again, she may not be so keen on that idea, seeing as her own kind sold her out. ”

“Excellent point,” Krem said with an agreeing nod.

Iron Bull watched the sleeping girl and listened to the crackling of the fire. He soon found himself dozing off. He told himself he would take first watch that night and didn't fight off the sleep any longer.

Bull awoke from his nap to find that the sun had started to set. Krem had made significant progress on the alterations of the robe. The elf, aside from rolling over in her sleep, hadn't moved.

Bull looked her over and found his temper flaring up.

Her bony legs were caught up in the blanket. Her gaunt cheeks were colorless. She could have so easily been a corpse lying there were it not for the obvious rise and fall of her back with her breath. At least she appeared to have sweat out the worst of her fever thanks to the elfroot.

There was a commotion in the vegetation, heavy footsteps crashing through underbrush, and Bull knew immediately it was Cullen returning from his hunt.

The noise woke the girl, who jolted upright and clung to the blanket drowsy and confused.

He had two winter thin rabbits dangling over his shoulder, his face wore a scowl.

“Didn't go well?” Bull asked with a smirk.

“It, in fact, did not.”

Krem sighed with mild amusement. “That won't do. Let me finish this up and I'll go try my hand.”

Cullen grimaced and slung his kill and crossbow off his shoulder. “You're welcome to it. I thought I might try fishing up the river aways instead. Just need a good bit of twine really.”

“Better luck to you there. I best get the little one cleaned up before the temperature drops.”

Cullen nodded and mounted his horse, heading up river as he had planned.

Bull stood, stretched, and brushed some dirt from his elbow.

“Come here then little one,” Bull cooed softly, reaching for the girl.

She was having none of it. She kicked him in the collar bone and tried to scramble away.

“Hey now, I thought we were friends,” Bull grumbled. The blankets had prevented her from getting very far. Bull easily caught hold of her and pulled her in.

She lashed out in terror scratching his cheek and grazing his chest.

“Ouch!” Bull hissed trying to get control of her. “Calm down. Calm down…”

When she was fully compressed against his chest, unable to do much else, she settled. Bull felt the sting of her unkempt nails. She had drawn blood this time.

“Damn...hate to see the damage she could do with a knife.”

“What's wrong chief, injured little girl giving you trouble?”

“Hey, never underestimate someone based on their size. And she's tougher than she looks.”

Krem chuckled. “If you say so chief.”

Bull hefted the girl up into his arms and carried her down to the water's edge. He sat her down gently, trying to be mindful of her leg. She scowled at him but didn't run. He sat himself on a fallen tree beside her to remove his boots and brace. She watched him with wary curiosity.

“See, I've got a bad leg, just like you,” he explained, motioning to her injury. Her face was unchanging.

Bull removed his harness and other armor, then his belt and trousers.

“Shit...how am I going to explain I need you to strip without ripping your clothes off? You're gonna throw a fit, I just know it.”

Bull scratched where his horns met skin then pointed at the lake.

“You need cleaned up, we can't take you back all covered in blood like that. Do you understand?”

The girl's eyes followed bull's finger to the lake, then she put her gaze to Bull. Her eyes, though tired, gleamed with a yearning to comprehend. There was a certain longing in her expression, a longing to hear a language familiar to her.

Bull sighed and reached for the girl. She flinched back, not out of genuine fear it seemed, but the memory of fear still fresh in her mind. Bull reached again and this time got the girl in hand. He very lightly tugged at the scrap of curtain he had wrapped her in, and pointed at his discarded garments.

The girl clung to the scrap of fabric, hesitant, as if she believed she was being tricked, but was unsure how. Bull tugged again, just as gently. Moments later the girl unclenched her fists and allowed the fabric to fall away.

“That's a good girl,” Bull soothed, patting the girl's arm.

She was shivering. It was easy enough to write it off as her being cold, standing lakeside in nothing but a shift, but Bull could tell it was more than that. She was frightened.

Not the overt caterwauling frightened she had been earlier, in the face of the unfamiliar. It was a subtle fear, crushed down by time, by familiarity. She was used to stripping down at command.  
Bull froze in place. He could not bear to reach for the knotted slip cord that held the oversized shift to the girl's frail body, but couldn't will his hand to return to his side either.

“Of course they did more than mess with your head in there...of course they did…”

Bull snarled and struck a tree with the side of his fist. The elf flinched back and shielded herself from the next blow she believed would be for her.

“Ah, sorry little one...I didn't mean to...I just...well, never mind what I just...”

Bull stared at the tiny elf for a long time. She thought him a demon, and worse, the sort of monster that would defile something as defenseless as she. He could see the evidence of such fear and loathing in her eyes, even as dulled by confusion and exhaustion as they were.

Bull placed his hand on top of the girl's head. He petted her, never minding her grimy hair. He checked her for lice or fleas, and was relieved that he found none.

She didn't flinch away. She was made timid by the affection showed to her however. She had likely banished any part of her that sought it out or wished to receive it long ago. Still it was evident she had missed it.

“I know you don't understand me, but you're safe now. You're just...bloody, is all. I think It gives you a real intimidating primal warrior look, but Commander Cullen wants it gone so…”

Bull thought back to his tamasrin. How he had learned to care for the other children. He remembered his tamasrin had lifted his threadbare night shirt over his head, before his horns had come in. When he had grown some he had lifted the same night clothes over the heads of the other children.

Surely elf mothers dressed and undressed their children much in the same way. Bull only hoped the girl could understand that.

He touched her tiny wrist and lifted her arm. With his free hand he pulled free her ruined garment. Exhaustion won out over fear, and she did not struggle against him.

Beneath the shift Bull found exactly what he expected, further signs of abuse and malnutrition. A body that was gaunt, bruised, and dirty. He turned her around, looking for previously unseen injuries.

Additionally, hidden beneath the undergarment, there were yet more croppings of thorn tattoos.

The tattoo began anew at the nape of her neck. The ink thorns ran forwards to her throat, nearly meeting just above the dip in her clavicle, as if they were a necklace waiting to be completed with a fine gemstone.

Two shoots of interwoven vines climbed down the sides of her arms and ended on the backs of her hands.

They were inked into her skin as naturally as if they had grown over the curves of her body, diminished as they were now.

The pattern repeated below. A knotted patch, nestled in the small of her back, stretched forward, twisting over her hips and trailed down her sides. They danced down her thighs and calves, ending above her ankles in curling thin tendrils.

A second braid of thorns crested just above her mons pubis. The vines grew upwards to cradle her navel before spanning outward once more. The work was delicate, detailed, and skilled. Bull was admittedly impressed.

Bull turned his gaze to the soiled shift. Washing it was out of the question, so he tossed it away. The girl fussed at this and began to cry again. Bull drew her closer to him in the hopes that the warmth would comfort her. She quieted herself but still wept silently.

Now, in better light, Bull could make out the varying shade of the ink on her skin. The red thorns had a pulsing, throbbing appearance to them, created by the pattern of ink fading in and out. The ink was as bright as blood in some places, and as black as night in others. This made the twisting of the vines all the more realistic, as if their imagined curves caught light and cast shadows. The longer he stared, the more he could see the branches twist and move. They were sharp looking. Alive looking.

This was no ordinary Dalish tattoo. Bull was certain there must be clans out there that had more ornate designs than others, but this was more than that. What did it mean?

He felt compelled to touch them, to be certain the vines were merely flat images. He allowed his palm to glide over her shoulder and along her arm. There were no thorns, no sharp barbs to prick his skin, and yet, they felt painful still.

“Just what are you little one?”

Sharp green eyes, tearful and blinking, met his own. This was her only response.

After the elf appeared as calm as she could manage to make herself, Bull placed a hand on her back and guided her to the water. Surprisingly this did not upset her, even when the cold water lapped at her feet.

“Cold doesn't bother you huh? Guess it wouldn't so much. I don't mind it. I don't like it, but I don't complain as loud as the damn vints so there's that.”

The elf didn't respond. She looked from Bull to the lake then back again. Bull waved her forward and she bolted. She ran along the shallows, kicking up water carelessly before crashing into the depths.

“Careful little one, the water is deep, not to mention bloody cold...and I hear Qunari sink,” he called after her.

If she remembered joy or laughter, she failed to express it now, but Bull thought maybe there might be some small glimmer of it in her eyes when she faced him again.

Bull picked up a soft bristle brush he had taken from Krem’s pack, and waded into the water. First up to his shins, then to his knees, then finally to his waist, cradling his genitals and chanting "shit, shit, shit" the whole time.

The elf kicked off the bottom of the lake and bobbed at the surface. Twice she darted under water and resurfaced elsewhere. Her hair tangled around her neck like seaweed and netted up around her ears. There was a strange starburst shaped scar on her ribs. Bull couldn’t place what might have caused it, but it must have been painful.

“You are a sad sight little one. Good to know elves float though....”

They had not brought brushes or soaps with them. There had been no intentions of staying the night let alone bathing. But, softhearted Krem, had brought along a horse brush. Almost the perfect tool for this job.

Bull swiped the brush over his forearm to test the coarseness of the bristles then adjusted the force.

“Little one,” he called, gently waving her closer, “come here little one.”

The elf eyed him warily, then the far side of the lake. She could have swam for it. Her size and speed in the water more than proved that she was more aquatically graceful than Bull was. When she looked back to him, it was as if she were acknowledging this fact, making sure he acknowledged it as well, before returning to his side.

“Like a horse too broken to run free...I almost wish you would have went for it. Least then we would know you want to live…”

Bull showed the girl the brush, showed her it was painless to the skin, then took hold of her arm and began to scrub her over. She fussed only when he began to pull the brush through her hair, but quieted down when the knots began to come loose.

“I didn't know there were clans that didn't speak the trade tongue. I'm not sure I'm saying that right. Probably not. I used to live in a place up north called Par Vollen. Ever hear of it?”

The elf tilted her head slightly. She was listening, but how much did she comprehend, if anything at all.

Bull continued. “They say you can find Dalish clans just about anywhere in Thedas, but the further north you go the less there are, what with the slave trade in Tevinter being so prominent. There aren't many on Par Vollen either. They mess with the laws of the Qun too much. Even less on Seharon, though I'd wager there are a few, traveling in sandstorms, sleeping in caves to hide their fires, watering their goats from some secret oasis. I bet they are out there, outsmarting us all.”

“Qun,” she echoed back. Her voice was sweet but cold, like mint.

“That's right, The Qun. Nothing to try and wrap your head around just yet. Though, I'd be impressed if you managed it. Your clan must be so isolated up there, you probably don't even know about the war. Did you know there was a blight too? Dalish clans fought there too. Is it out of line if I say I admire your people. Brave. Live on their own terms. Don’t know that it’s exactly the best thing, but it certainly seems to keep them alive, and that’s something.”

Bull pulled loose a particularly tough knot and the girl yelped. Bull apologized but she continued to glare at him. He rubbed the spot he had pulled and brushed his fingers over her ear. He was surprised to find it was pierced and still held a plain silver hoop.

“Didn’t take that away from you huh? Strange. You know, you're surprisingly easy to talk to. I suppose the fact that you hardly understand me helps, but who knows, maybe you were always a good listener huh? I don't mind filling the silence for now. I just hope we don't teach you to talk just to find out you're a big pain in the ass or something. Don’t take after Cullen is what I’m saying.”

Bull washed the blood from his own body where he found it, but didn’t bother to use the brush. He cleansed her face, rubbing the dirt away with his thumbs. The thorns on her cheeks prickled with a stinging heat. Bull knew it was likely just the fever, but that didn’t stop him from searching his hands for fresh wounds.

When she was as clean as he could make her, and when he couldn't stand the icy water a moment more, Bull pulled the girl from the lake and wrapped her in a blanket. He carried her up the bank and sat her on the fur cover he had taken from the tower. Krem was nowhere to be seen. Likely hunting.  
Bull threw more wood on the fire and stood close to dry himself. It was amazing what a little lake water could do.

He hadn’t been able to sort out the tangles entirely, that would require strong combs and oils, and perhaps a blade in the end, but the clean water had done much to remove the filth from her tresses. They revealed a raven like shine now and hung much more orderly about her face. The hair retained its wave like flow, but now the waves were smooth and gentle, as if gently drawn from a quill, not blown high by a storm.

Bull gathered his personal effects from the shore side and redressed himself. The elf stared into the flames, unblinking. The light writhed over her skin and marbled her glassy green eyes with shades of copper and crimson.

Bull got the distinct inclination that she was looking beyond the fire. Beyond the trees and the lake and the mountain itself. Whatever she saw, it haunted her.

Bull took her hand to comfort her and noticed there were splinters in her palms from battering the tower door.

“Here too huh? You're going to take a while to put back together I can see.”

Bull sat down across from the girl and plucked the splinters out. She was so docile she even allowed him to use a blade to pick out a particularly deep one.

He was in the process of applying salve to her various wounds as well as his own, caused by her, when Cullen rode back into the camp.

“Well now, that is quite an improvement,” he commented, dismounting his horse. “She almost looks presentable.”

“I thought so. Catch anything?”

“Mm? Yes, I did actually. Salmon. Had five but one slipped the hook.”

“Better than nothing. Thanks Cul.”

“I wonder-Would you mind cleaning them Iron Bull? I would very much like to read over the information we gathered from the tower and organize my report for the Inquisitor before the last light slips away. I'm hoping I might learn something useful about her. She...seems content enough to sit by…”

“Yeah, sure, as long as she stays calm.”

Cullen smiled handed over the fish to Bull, then settled down by the fire to read. Bull drew out the knife from his boot, held it over the flames, then split the gut of one of the fish.

The elf watched him scoop out the unwanted internals and toss them away. He then cut off the head and threw this away as well. She frowned at him.

“What? he asked, reaching for the next fish.

“Banal,” she sighed, taking the fish and reaching for the knife.

“What, you're gonna do it?”

She thrust her hand out impatiently for the knife.

Bull smiled, his interest peaked. “Alright, ok, you do it then.”

The girl scaled the fish, then the next, and did the best she could with the one Bull had already cut. She stood up, discarding the blanket, and carried the fish down to the water for washing.

“Maker’s breath, Iron Bull, you didn't dress her?” Cullen gasped.

“She was wet. Good thing too, would have got covered in fish guts anyways.”

She returned, gutted the remaining fish, and made Bull hold them. She sharpened several sticks and skewered the fish, allowing them to grill over the fire.

Cullen shifted away as much as he could so as not to appear to stare, but couldn't stray to far as he now needed the light of the fire to see.

Bull was intrigued. “Were you a hunter perhaps? Do the Dalish have cooks?”

She skinned the rabbits faster than he could as well. Bull rigged up a way to roast them and by the time things got cooking Krem returned with three fat game hens.

“What’s this about then? Sick girl, freezing cold, and you're putting her to work?” he asked Bull, his voice playful but his question serious.

Bull chuckled. “She sort of insisted. Got all huffy about how I cleaned the fish. I was afraid to try my hand at the rabbit afterwards.”

The elf gathered the hens and began plucking them. Krem assisted her and after observing his work she allowed him to prepare the birds for cooking.

Bull helped her down the bank so she could wash her hands clean of blood. Afterwards he helped her into the robe Krem had altered. It was still too large about the neck and shoulders but she could walk in it well enough.

They returned to the fire side and Bull gathered the food and wine he had taken from the tower.

“Here,” Bull said, offering the girl a hunk of bread. “It's a bit hard but it's still good.”

She eyed him warily. There was something angry in her expression. That challenging look again.

“What? It's bread. Just bread. Honest. Look.”

He tore off a piece and ate it. Then he tore off another and offered it to her. She did not take it so Bull pressed it to her lips. After a moment her hunger won out and she opened her mouth. Bull popped the bread inside and smiled when he saw her ravenous chewing.

“See, it's not bad.”

“Not bad…” she repeated, the words clunky in her mouth.

Cullen looked up from the journal.

Bull froze. “Did you...did you understand me just now?”

“Don't be silly Bull, she doesn't understand. She's just parroting back to you.”

She glared at Cullen.

“Somehow, I don't think so Cul.”

Bull held up the hunk of bread. “What is this?” he asked her. She stared, confused.

Bull frowned then pointed at a tree.

“This?”

The girl’s face soured, but Bull could see her mind working, trying to respond. “Adahl,” she whispered.

“What about this?” he asked, picking up Krem’s sword.

The girl bit her lip, then spoke. “Mi. Banal...blade.”

Bull grinned. “I knew it. I knew you could understand us.”

“Calm down Bull,” Cullen muttered, closing the book on his thumb to keep his place. “ I'm sure she picked up a few words from the mages is all.”

“Blade? Don’t imaging the mages had too many swords lying around Cullen. She understands us. Someone spoke to her before all of this. Taught her the trade tongue.”

“It’s possible. I wouldn’t read too much into it for now.”

“Yeah, maybe...maybe.” Bull handed the girl the hunk of bread. She tore into it mashing it into her mouth with her palms.

“Let’s eat already,” Krem barked, pulling a fish out of the fire and taking a bite.

Bull smiled and passed the elf a piece of the game bird. “Yeah, let’s eat.”

The girl didn't eat the meat with any more grace than the bread. She ripped and tore at the bird with ravenous hunger. She chewed with such aggressive abandon, Bull's table manners seemed refined by comparison.

Bull laughed, his own mouth full, and gave her one of the grilled fish.  
The little bones slowed her down but not by much. Bull ate a rabbit and two birds more or less to himself, passing the elf bits and pieces to keep her from eating herself sick. Krem and Cullen politely shared the remaining meat between them. They each took a cut of cheese and bread, the girl took two, and Bull passed the wine bottle.

“It's not bad,” Cullen remarked, taking a second swig.

“That's a red from Orlais for sure. Too sweet to be Ferelden.”

“It couldn't be Ferelden Krem, it's not sour ale,” Bull joked.

Cullen rolled his eyes and passed the bottle on. Bull uncorked the small bottle of liquor and sampled it. Strong and harsh, with a cider like aftertaste.

Bull passed this bottle as well but only Krem indulged. The elf took the wine from Cullen and guzzled a fair amount down before it dawned on any of them that it was probably unwise to let her do so.

When the meal was done the elf gathered the bones and buried them in the soft lakeside soil. She whispered unintelligible words and bowed her head to the earth in prayer.

The men chatted for a while by the fire and the girl blinked sleepily, propped against a saddle.

“Did you learn anything from those notes Commander?” Krem asked, picking his teeth.

“Mm, yes, as a matter of fact I did.” Cullen retrieved the book and flipped through the pages.

“The early accounts are sparse. He was, at least for a time, conflicted about using the girl. He says the Dalish elf that sold her to him called her Mavra. He uses that name at first, but in later entries he simply calls her the relic.”

Bull tried the name but received no response.

“Huh,” he muttered, taking another drink from the wine bottle. “Doesn't seem she remembers.”

“No, I wouldn't imagine she would. The experiments they were performing on her...part of them were dedicated to suppressing her memory. If I'm understanding this correctly, they theorized that in order to control her, they needed her devoid of emotion. They were using a process involving lyrium and physical torture to try and blank her mind. It’s no wonder she is all muddled up.”

Neither Bull nor Krem responded. Cullen coughed and flipped to a different page and looked it over before speaking again.

“From what I can gather she was born Dalish. To have so much of the Dalish language preserved, her clan must have been fairly removed from the others...it’s hard to imagine that she was captured by slavers...but the notch in her ear…”

Bull nodded. “She was sold by her own...how could they have allowed that?”

Krem shrugged. “The Dalish are a superstitious people. If she really is some kind of fade relic, they may have wanted to be rid of her…”

Before anyone could reply the elf let out a snore and rolled over.

“Put that fucking book away Cullen. Let’s get some sleep.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, sorry for the wait, enjoy!

The night crept by on crippled limbs, as if there were somehow more hours than there should have been. Without the bells to count them, there may well have been.

Bull took the first watch, just as he said he would. Cullen shifted restlessly the entire time he slept. Krem had settled down back to back with the elf for warmth. If the elf at all felt threatened by this she had a funny way of showing it. She was dead asleep in moments.

For a long time there was nothing but the lapping of the lake water and the occasional startled cries of winter birds, shivering themselves awake. The quiet laid over everything like a blanket, heavy, almost tangible. Twice Bull had to get up to add wood to the fire or patrol the camp to keep from drifting off to sleep. Something about the rabbit meat and the cold weighted his eyelids. It couldn’t have possibly been the drink.

After one of these patrols around camp Bull heard more rustling coming from inside it than before. He thought it might be a nug looking for food in their packs. Upon investigating, he discovered it was the elf. She had squirmed away from Krem and was shivering violently. She kicked him in the back once or twice but he didn’t stir. Bull set his axe aside and knelt down beside the girl.

He touched her forehead and immediately felt the heat radiating off of her.

“Shit...fever’s back huh?”

Bull withdrew his hand and wiped away the sweat. Cullen’s moaning was getting louder so Bull didn't feel to bad about waking him. He thumped his rump with the toe of his boot once, the again a bit harder.

Cullen bolted upright, hand finding his blade despite the darkness and his confusion. “What's the matter? Venatori?”

“Relax Cul, just me.”

“Is something wrong? My turn for the watch?”

“Not exactly. Come’ere.”

Cullen released his grip on his sword and stood to follow.

“Feel her,” Bull commanded.

Cullen gave him a concerned glance then bent down to check on the girl.

“By the Maker, she’s boiling…”

“Yeah. So do we cool her down or keep her warm?”

“This _may_ have escaped your keen eye Bull, but I am not a healer.”

“No...but you deal with a lot of lyrium fevers, don't you? So I wanted your opinion.”

“That's different...that's lyrium Bull. This is different. I suppose, she is sweating a good deal...trying to break the fever. We should wipe her down, air out her bedding best we can and make sure she drinks plenty of water. Easy to dehydrate like that. You tend to her and I can take over the watch.”

“Yeah, alright. Thanks Cul,”

“After that, keep her warm. That should help her fight it off...I must apologize, you were right. We should have pushed for Skyhold. She needs a healer, at this rate…”

“She might be doing a lot worse if we hadn’t stopped to rest. We’re doing our best.”

Bull gently woke the girl. She wasn’t coherent and didn't try to speak as he got her to her feet. He got her to drink two long pulls from his canteen but she refused a third. He half walked her, half drug her, towards the lake and pulled off her robe.

The night was cloudy and utterly dark. Shrouded in all her black hair the girl nearly vanished before him. The only thing Bull could make out with any clarity was the faint splash of searing red from her tattoos.

Bull fumbled around in the dark till he found the scrap of cloth he had used to wash the blood from her face. He dipped it in the water and wiped the girl down. She moaned with discomfort at this but hadn't the strength to resist.

Cullen had shook out her bedding and spread it to dry by the fire. Krem snored on.

After she had time to dry by the fire Bull wrapped her in the curtain scrap and laid her back down. Cullen and Krem each repeated the process during their watch shifts. Krem even woke Bull, fearing the girl wasn't going to make it, but by first light she had stabilized.

When Bull had drifted to sleep the girl was cradled between him and Krem. When he awoke both of them were gone. Krem was down by the lake, washing up. Cullen was packing up the horses. The girl was nowhere to be found.

Bull stood and stretched. His knee popped as did his back. His shoulder was stiff so he rolled it a few times but it did very little to alleviate the feeling.

“Hey, Krem, where is the little one?”

“Dunno, she was gone when I woke.”

“What she just wandered off? She could be-"

“She's doing much better,” Cullen interrupted. “She has been wandering off one way and coming back another for a bit now. Not sure if she's trying to get her bearings or find healing herbs but she's doing alright. Told her we'd be heading out as soon as we got things gathered up. I _think_ she understood.”

Bull meandered towards the edge of camp and scanned the tree line.

“There could be wolves out there...you shouldn't have let her go out alone.”

Krem approached from the bank. “In the commander's defense, she's a lady yeah? We figured she might like a bit of time alone. Sort out any _personal business_ she might have.”

Bull grunted and began to help load their supplies. “Sure, fine. Just hope she comes back not been eaten by wolves then…”

The elf returned just as Cullen said she would, chewing on something leafy and bitter scented. She was a horror in the daylight. The stretch of her skin over bone more apparent. The green of her eyes more ghoulish than charming. Bull had seen a darkspawn once before. Had he not, he would have believed her to be one.

The plant in her mouth appeared to be elfroot. She had managed to pull the robe over her head, but she hadn't done any of its fastenings so it slopped and sagged over her frail frame even worse.

Something that almost could have been called sense had reclaimed her. She didn't fuss when Bull helped secure her robe. She didn’t even kick up a fuss when Bull placed her on Cullen’s horse. She just stared past him. Didn't say a word.

Though their mission had been a success, their journey back was a bit more somber than their departure had been. They rode nearly in silence, stopping only once to water the horses and relieve themselves. When they reached Skyhold’s gates the Seeker was already waiting for them.

“Commander Cullen, what were you thinking? Explain yourself! Disappearing without a single notice, leaving your post entirely deserted! Bull, his chargers, that’s one thing, but you!”

“Cassandra, please, I didn't abandon my post. I left my second in command in charge while I saw to a pressing matter. I assure you had there been some unforeseen siege on the fortress you would have been in excellent hands.”

“That is not the point! You left without notifying any of the other advisors or myself. For all I knew you were drowning yourself in lyrium somewhere. Did you even tell the Inquisitor?”

Cullen stammered. “Well, he was aware that the matter was-"

“You didn't, did you? How foolish could you have been? I can't believe you would-"

“Seeker,” Bull interrupted. “I'm not trying to get us out of the yelling, to tell you the truth I kind of like the yelling part, but we have something a bit more pressing to see to.”

Bull gestured to the elf bundled up and leaning against Cullen. Cassandra hadn't noticed her before.

“Who is she? A child? What is she doing here?”

Cullen drove his horse forward and Bull and Krem followed. “It's a rather long story Cassandra, one I'm afraid I can't stop and explain now. This girl needs medical care at once. As soon as I deliver her to the healer I will report to the Inquisitor and the others.”

Cassandra snorted and pulled the horse to a stop. “Then take the girl, I'll tend to your mount. You had better have a good explanation for all this Cullen.”

 

Cassandra took the girl, Cullen dismounted, and the two parted ways.

“Think she forgot about us Chief?” Krem asked.

“Well, on the one hand, she was pretty pissed at Cullen. Might make her forget all about us. On the other hand, she was _so_ pissed at Cullen, she will probably be looking for someone to bring the hammer down on, in which case…”

“The Iron Bull!” Cassandra’s voice boomed from across the way. “I want a report immediately!”

Krem chuckled and held the reins of Bull’s horse while he dismounted. “Don't worry, I'll take care of Big Fella here for you, big fella.”

*

Bull was in one of the medical tents. There hadn't been many sick or wounded lately, so there was room for the sick girl, who was sleeping now.

He had relayed the events of their adventure in the tower to Cassandra, and, by happenstance, Varric. The seeker was unamused at first, but as the story unfolded she paled just a hair and rushed off to find Leliana. Varric was more or less perturbed by the whole thing, but his interest was peaked all the same.

“Got lucky this one,” the nurse announced wiping sweat from the girl’s forehead. “Any longer out there she could have lost that foot. Maybe the whole leg with that infected wound…”

“What wound?” Bull blurted out.

“On her back side. Inner thigh. Nasty thing, needed drained.

“I checked her for wounds...I checked.”

“Not surprised you missed it. I didn't see it myself till I was examining her-well-until I examined her. Making sure she wasn't with child or so.”

“You thought she might have been pregnant?”

“Well, she had...bites, on her breasts. Wounds of a sexual nature and the like. Had to give her a look over.”

Bull felt his skin heat with anger. “And?”

The nurse shook her head. “Weren't great. Nothing threatening but plenty damning.”

“So they defiled her too...thought so...they wanted to entirely dehumanize her.”

“Aye, that might do it, but If that were the worst of it.”

“It's not? You have to be shitting me…”

“No meser.” The maid sat on the edge of the girl’s cot with a sigh.

“There were...other injuries. Unnatural. Think she had a baby in there once. Lost it not too long ago it looks. Then she took the beating that cut her up in such a strange place. Don't doubt it was the Iron Spider next.”

Bull shifted, trying to stifle a shudder. The iron spider, he had seen the breast ripper’s work before. He was thankful she had at least been spared that. “You seem familiar with this sort of stuff. Were you a midwife before?”

“Off and on. Helped my ma, till I showed her I was better at stitches and bindin’ than birthin babes. Still remember most of this though.”

“See this kind of stuff often?”

The nurse grimaced. “You'd think bein at war would be the worst of it. Limbs lopped off, innards all strewn on the outside, eyes needin scooped out. But it isn't. War has its horrors, we expect those. Accept them. Who tells you about the horrors you can find in love Meser? Set the same arm for the young wife the far side of town more than once. She never looked well. All those _accidents_. The Winthrop’s girl, fell for a sailor, made her take the wicked poke to avoid another mouth to feed. This wasn't war. It’s something more twisted.”

She shook her head and stood.

“Yes meser, I've seen my share of this. But I've seen worse. You did good bringing her here. She's alive, and if she's strong, she'll heal.”

Bull uncurled his good fist and glanced at the five sovereigns in his palm. “I'd like you to do me a favor.”

The nurse eyed him suspiciously. “Meser? I'm no blade of mercy if that's what you want done. Jus because you have them big horns on your head doesn't mean I'm to scared to report you.”

Bull smiled at her. “Nothing like that. I just wanted to ask you to keep what you know to yourself. She's young, and you know the way Orlesians like to gossip. She doesn't need to go through anymore pain because of those assholes right?”

“I treated an injured foot Meser. No one will say otherwise.”

Bull nodded appreciatively and slipped the coins into the nurse’s palm. “I'd also like you tell me when she wakes up before anyone else. I know you're to report directly to Cullen or the seeker, but I think I need to be here first.”

“Fine, fine. If it's that important to you.”

Bull probably didn't need to bribe the nurse, but people that weren't expecting a reward were usually the most thankful for receiving one.

The nurse tucked the money away and brushed the girl’s hair away from her face. “She's an ugly little thing isn't she? I mean, ugly cause you can tell she was pretty once. Like if you stomp a flower into the dirt, looks worse than if there had never been a flower at all. Destruction for destruction’s sake.”

“Flowers grow back,” Bull pointed out.

“Aye, maybe this time. As I said, you did a good thing, bringing her here. Sometime it does the soldier's good, seeing the people they fight to protect getting another chance.”

“Yeah, it does.”

The tromp of several pairs of boots outside drew near the tent. Bull might have been worried if he hadn't been able to make out Cassandra’s angry footsteps as well as  Varric’s, struggling to keep pace.

“You had better get back to your other patients.”

“Yes Meser,” the nurse agreed, ducking out of the tent just as the Inquisitor arrived.

“Boss,” Bull greeted him. “Nice day out huh?”

“Let me see her,” he ordered, brushing by him.

Volantis Trevelyan, leader of the inquisition. He was a clever kid, good-natured, but like Cassandra, too serious. He was a mage but he fought more like a templar. Almost as good as one with a blade too, Bull had seen it. Volantis was just about the only mage outside of the chargers that Bull trusted, or liked for that matter. He really was just a kid, no older than twenty years, still growing even. He threatened to be every bit as large as Cullen when he was through. The only one younger was Cole, and Bull wasn't sure that counted.

He was followed by his confidant and paramour, Dorian Pavus. Bull heard him utter “Oh my" when he saw the girl. Dorian was also a mage, and worse, a Vint, but he was admittedly a good influence on the Inquisitor. Softened him up in the right places. Good looking too, the kid had good taste there at least. Bull had seen Volantis face down demons and dragons without a hint of fear, but one playful look from the Vint set his knees knocking. Well, that, or getting scolded by Cassandra.

Cullen, Cassandra, and Varric filed in behind the pair of mages.

“Ok,” Bull spoke up, “ _this_ is why we have a war room.”

“Yeah,” Varric agreed, grunting and squeezing past Cullen and Dorian. “And if we're not gonna use it at least let the dwarf down front.”

Volantis knelt at the girl’s bedside to get a better look at her. “Sweet blood of the maker…she's just a child.”

“You weren't bluffing us Tiny.”

“Varric, is that...is that red lyrium, in her skin?” Dorian asked

Varric gingerly touched the girl's hand, tracing her tattoo up her arm. “It is and it isn't…”

The inquisitor gave him a bitter look. “What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what I said thunder head. It is lyrium, or it _was_ , but it isn't anymore. It's like...I don't know, like it's been refined somehow.

“Refined how?” Cassandra barked.

“I don't know how, I'm not a sodding expert on the stuff…”

“We know the mages were using red lyrium in their research. It's possible her erratic behavior could be from the exposure…” Cullen offered.

“Yeah, except Krem and I spent just about the whole night with her and we feel fine.”

“Commander?” Volantis inquired, getting to his feet.

“I...I agree with Bull on that front. I rode with the girl here from our camp. I can not say I felt anything like the effects of lyrium, red or otherwise.”

Varric shook his head. “She would be a lot worse for wear if that was real red lyrium, trust me. If she's crazy, that's not the reason. This lyrium has been filtered somehow. Purified. Like all the power has been leached out of it by...something.”

Volantis turned to Dorian. “Please tell Sister Nightingale about this and have her people investigate the matter at once. Get Dagna whatever she needs to research the refinement of red lyrium. Start with the tower.”

“That's going to be a problem…” Bull mumbled.

“What? Why?”

Cullen cleared his throat in distress. “Sir, unfortunately, through no fault of our own, the tower is no longer standing.”

“Very well, organize a garrison to excavate the site. I'm sure there will be something useful that survived.”

“That isn't possible either. You see, as I was trying to explain earlier, the tower is gone sir.”

Volantis pulled a hostile smile. He had perfected the art of remaining amused while frustrated. “Gone? Gone where? Holiday in Orlais?”

Cullen bit his cheek, not wanting to further damn himself, but compelled to answer. “I can't say with any certainty but my guess would be the fade.”

“What?”

“You interrupted my report when I told you the girl was a fade relic. I did not have a chance to tell you that there were spirits haunting the tower. Powerful, vengeful spirits. They attacked us, sealed us inside. They...spoke to her, to the girl. Some strange language we didn't recognize. I can't even begin to relay what was said. The spirits wanted something from her. I believe they needed her help to cross out of the fade, into our world. The argument got heated and...I'm not sure I can say what happened next…”

Bull stepped to Cullen’s side. “The creepy little ghost kid _grabbed_ her. It could actually _touch_ her, through the veil. Twisted her arm and then...I don't know. She got pissed I guess. The next thing any of us knew the ground was comin’ apart at our feet.”

“Coming apart?” Volantis bit his thumb, his usual stressed habit. Scars on his knuckles and wrist showed that the biting had escalated into something worse at some point, but Bull hadn't noticed anything recent.

Bull walked towards the girl and lifted her hand, showing everyone the thorns that covered her skin. “There were thorns, just like these, all over the outside of the tower. Cullen thought they were dead roses, planted in remembrance of the dead kids. But they weren't. They were her doing, somehow. When the spirit had her on her knees, she called these thorns up through the tower floor and tore the place apart. I've never seen anything like it. No mage, no demon, has ever done anything like that. Don't know exactly what happened to the ghost kids, they got pulled under by the thorns and I lost track of them after that. Trying to dodge a falling building and all. Whole place came crashing down. When we stopped running there was hardly anything left. These thorns kept pulling it down and down until there was nothing but an empty field. You could try and dig it up but I doubt you'll find even one brick of that tower. I agree with Cullen. It's gone.”

Volantis sighed and Dorian placed a hand on his back.

Cullen broached the subject again.

“Inquisitor, it's not a total loss. We have the girl, and the experiment notes, I'm confident there is much we can learn from-"

“Whoa Cullen. We have the notes. The girl isn't some resource we recovered. She's a girl,” Bull corrected him.

“No of course not, and I would never imply that we should treat her as the mages did, but you can't deny that she could be a valuable source of information for us, we must-”

“A valuable source? Did you even listen to her? She's more than half way out of her head, and even if she wasn't, she doesn't speak a damn word any of us understand.”

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest. “I seem to recall it was you who argued she must know the trade tongue.”

“Cullen is right, we can't ignore the fact that the the girl may know something vital. Nor can we ignore the fact that she may be dangerous,” added Cassandra.

“What, you aren't suggesting we keep her under lock and key are you? After what she's been through? That's inhumane Cassandra,” Cullen reprimanded her.

Varric glared. “That's how the seeker deals with her problems, right Inquisitor?”

Volantis raised his finger towards Cassandra but the tent flapped open and someone was pushing their way inside.”

“Oy!” came the sharp whisper of the nurse. “Just what is all this yelling in my tent? This girl is very sick and proper injured! She does not need this nonsense, are we clear? I don't care if you're the inquisitor, out, the lot of you. Cept the big one. He can stay if he likes.”

Volantis shook his head and motioned for everyone to exit. Once a safe distance from the medical tents he addressed Cullen again. “You don't believe her to be a mage?”

“No sir.”

“Or a demon?”

“No.”

“And you Varric? Do you think this red lyrium is dangerous?”

“Hard to say, I mean, it's red, but…”

“So no one thinks we are in immediate danger? No? Then let's chalk this one up as a win for the Inquisition.”

“Inquisitor Trevelyan, surely you do not intend to leave the matter as it is?” Cassandra asked in disbelief.

“Of course not. We'll have our best scholars work on studying the notes and I want someone watching this tent at all times. I do intend to have the girl questioned, but our first priority should be making sure she makes a full recovery. And yes Cassandra, I'll ensure that Cullen and The Iron Bull are properly reprimanded for their action.”

Cassandra snorted haughtily.  “See that you do.”

“Now everyone, get back to work, let me deal with these two.”

Cassandra and Dorian made for the library, while Varric instead headed for the tavern, most likely to get a drink.

Bull smiled. “ Now see, I hear the word punishment and I get all excited.”

Cullen winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maker, you can't be serious.”

“Enough you two. Cullen Rutherford, you acted recklessly and endangered not only Yourself and others, but the entire Inquisition. Iron Bull, I'm aware you were only acting as a subordinate in this situation but I'm afraid I can't overlook your involvement here.”

“Get on with it kid. We know this is just because you're afraid of the Seeker.”

“Of course I am. As a mage it would be foolish of me not to fear her. May I finish?”

“Go ahead”

“If this were any other military, and if one of you weren't the commander of said military, this would be a flogging. You both acted on a whim, and it could have cost us all dearly...but...if you hadn't, that girl would have likely died. Who knows what else worse might have befallen the area then. In light of the positive outcome you some how reached, I'm giving you both kitchen duty.”

“Aw come on boss, I'm a merc not a cook. You can't put me in a kitchen, I'm too big!”

Cullen smirked. “Funny, you aren't too big when you're looking to raid the larder.”

“Don't you have a shirt to stuff some where Cullen?”

Volantis snapped his fingers. “You are both to peel potatoes, wash carrots, and  chop onions until the cook says she’s tired of your mistakes. Are we clear?”

Bull furrowed his brow and folded his arms over his chest indignantly. Volantis stared him down like a pissed tamasrin with nothing more than a raise of his chin. Bull folded.

Then Volantis smiled at them, in an almost fatherly way.

“Be sure to tell the cook I said to make sure you two have a big meal when you're through.”

Cullen returned the smile bitterly. “I haven't had kitchen duty since I was a recruit.”

“Don't worry, potatoes still peel the same, Chantry boy. You're dismissed. And… don't tell Cassandra I said this but, good work.”

*

That night, after stuffing himself at dinner, Bull found himself too full to sleep. He decided to walk it off. He stopped in Cullen’s office to look at what books he had on hand. He never seemed to notice if one went missing for a week or so, as long as it wasn't returned with wine stains. Finding nothing that sparked his interest he went on to visit Vivienne. She was open enough to his company, so long as he didn't make a mess or disrupt her things, or perhaps worst of all, bore her.

She was in a terse mood, but lightened up when Bull told her about the fade relic.

“What is it like?” she asked him, putting down her book and giving him her full attention.

“She ma’am. It’s a she.” Bull corrected her. “And it’s hard to say what she’s like. Broken. Savage. Like a tal-vashoth. But I don't think that's who she _is_. Just what they made her.”

She ignored his correction. “What is it like as a _relic_ darling?”

What was it about circle mages and their ability to remove and bestow humanity according to how it best benefited them? Bull couldn’t understand that. It was one thing on the battlefield, but here, in Skyhold, people were supposed to be people.

“I dunno. Imposing. She has power. I'm not sure what kind exactly, but it is there. There were thorns. She may have called them. All I really saw was a frightened girl and a crumbling tower.”

“Remarkable, simply remarkable.”

“Vivienne, you being a mage and all, a damn good,one, how do you think she was made?”

“Well I can't say it is even remotely in my area of expertise but I would say it happened one of two ways. Either she was born this way, which I find doubtful for obvious reasons, or a great deal of magic was involved.”

Bull shook his head. “What kind of magic could do that?”

“It pains me to admit that I don't have the slightest sniff of a clue. Perhaps it is something specific to the Dalish? It would be worth investigating at the least.”

“The mages in that tower were trying to open a door to the fade. Not like the rifts that tore open but a real door. Could they have actually done that?”

Vivienne nearly let a smile slip. “If the tales of the Tevinter magisters are to be believed, it took a bit more power than a handful of apostates could muster to breach the fade, and things didn't end so well for them. But with the use of this relic...it's all very interesting. I wouldn't doubt its possibility out right.”

“Shit. Just...shit.” Bull sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Chin up dear, _if_ they pulled it off, we now bear the fruit of their labor. This relic could be a tremendous asset for the Inquisition.”

“She's just a kid Vivienne. A damn kid,” Bull growled in reply, walking towards the railing that overlooked the main hall and leaning against it. He could see Varric at his table, writing away in sharp swift strokes. He was in a rush. Either it was unpleasant work he wished to finish quickly, or he had been struck by passionate inspiration. His face was too far away to read.

“What did our dear Inquisitor think of it-of her?”

“Heard him telling the nurse to watch her. Not sure if he meant because she is dangerous or because she is important. Then he said something about Cullen and extra guard detail. He looked extra pissed. Probably not at us though. Don't be surprised if you see lightning from up there tonight.”

Vivian gave a purposely strained smile. “Quite. Is she...is she that bad off?”

“Well, if you're asking me, I've seen a lot worse, but she may have a different opinion on the matter.”

“I suppose that she would. If I may say so, you seem to be taking all of this rather personally my dear. What is the matter? As you've just said, you have seen worse. ”

Bull sighed and gripped the railing tight. “The crazy mage that was holding her, he said she was a monster, an abomination. He warned us that she was dangerous. Said we should kill her. Cullen wanted to at least consider it as an option, discuss it, but I put a stop to it immediately. He's a good leader, he can make those tough calls. I don't think any less of him...but I just couldn't do it.”

“And you’re ashamed of that? Iron Bull there are plenty here who would stay their hand in such a situation. This is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed of not killing the girl, there are worse things that can happen to an ageing soldier than getting soft. I’m concerned about my motivations for not wanting to kill her. I didn’t do it because I thought it was best for the group, or because I couldn’t take the thought of doing it. I didn’t do it, because I was afraid it would mean I’d gone savage. Tal-vashoth.”

Vivienne frowned and stood from her sofa to step closer to him. “And not wanting to behave as a savage upsets you?”

“No, but being so afraid of becoming an animal that it prevents me from acting? That’s a problem. The kind of problem the re-educators could fix, if I wasn’t…”

“Well I’m afraid you _are not_ , whatever it is you _were_. As difficult as it may be for you, the time has come for you to accept that. The Inquisition requires that of you.” 

She then lightly laid her hand on his back before continuing. “If that...girl, can overcome all that you say she has, then you can surely overcome this. You are The Iron Bull after all, are you not?”

He smiled. “Yes ma’am. I am The Iron Bull.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the newest chapter. Didn't go at all how I had planned but I think it turned out okay in the end. Thanks for all your patience and support!

That was the last night it snowed in Skyhold that winter before spring broke. A sudden frost that caught all off guard. It left behind scarcely an inch or two and by mid day the sun broke through the clouds and it began to melt away. Still, as with all snowy mornings, there was a

certain hush that fell over the fortress. Bull liked the quiet it brought. It felt like time would slow down for a little while. Like soldiers wouldn’t die, like rifts wouldn’t open, like there was somehow enough air to breath in.

 

Her face worsened over the next few days. The heavy bruises that blotted over her left side darkened into an angry plummy purple, then slowly yellowed in blotchy patterns. The eye puffed up slightly and blood swam around inside, coloring the corner a hellish red.Her lower lip swelled too and split itself open a bit. A crooked finger had been corrected and bandaged to its neighbor for support. The Fractured foot had been properly wrapped and was showing signs of improvement. All together she was not a pretty sight to behold.

 

Still, Bull checked on her nearly every day. On occasion he would stop the nurse that cared for her and ask her how the girl was getting along. She said the same thing each time.

 

“Better Mesare,” she would tell him, always with a strained smile. She wanted to say something else, but she never did. He never stopped for more than a few minutes. Long enough to ask the nurse or the guard how she was, maybe peek in on her, then off to the tavern. It wasn’t his place. It was best to keep lines drawn in situations like these. It wasn’t his place.

 

Krem was tipping a bottle to his lips but aborted the action when Bull took his usual seat.

 

“Wish you’d stop pretending I don’t know where you skulk off to everyday. It’s insulting really.”

 

Bull quirked a smile. “I told you. Just chatting with Blackwall. He hears a lot spending so much time in the market area you know.”

 

Krem shot bull a look that said he was full of shit. “Oh yeah, I’m sure he hears plenty. Sure he tells you about it too. Just as sure as I know he isn’t the reason you go down there every maker-damned day…”

 

Bull waved him off and took up the wooden stein offered to him by one of the tavern girls.

 

“So how is she recovering anyways?”

 

“Don’t know who you’re talking about,” Bull grunted.

 

“Come off it already.”

 

“She’s doing fine. That’s what the healer says anyways.”

 

“Then why is she still in the tent?”

 

Bull’s brow furrowed. “Her leg probably.”

 

“My ass. Her leg wasn’t that bad off. She should be up walking by now, building up her strength,” Krem snapped.

 

Bull took a huge gulp from his tankard and looked down at the frothy white foam swirling around inside. He gently sloshed it back and forth. It tasted a bit stale but not enough to put him off it. Still he set the cup down and pushed it away.

 

“The guard Cullen has posted outside says she won’t leave the tent. Won’t leave the bed without being coaxed out by the nurse. He says she hasn’t said a word since she woke up there. She just...sits in the bed, staring at the wall like it’s a damn window...”

 

“So she’s sick then? Like...like the way soldiers get sometimes?”

 

Bull grunted again, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eye. Maryden’s voice was coiling up into the rafters. On a quiet night it could reach all the way into the tower where he slept, only the ghosts of words and the faint trace of a melody, but he could hear it. It sounded nearly that far away now.  

 

“Well she can’t stay there forever yeah? What’s going to happen when we get wounded in? I still say we find some Dalish and let them figure it out…”

 

“Do you think we did the right thing? Bringing her here? I wonder if we should have just...let her go peacefully…”

 

“Aw stuff it you big cow. No one thinks you should have killed her, shut up about it already,” Krem groaned, taking a long drink from his bottle.

 

“I know, I know, I just wish we had done something wrong. Then at least we’d have someone to blame. Some sort of answer. You make a mistake, you feel sore about it, but you learn from it. You do better next time. We didn’t learn shit from this.”

 

Krem stood up and walked to Bull’s side. “Blame?” he asked, his hands relaying his exasperation. “What about blaming the mages that fuckin did that to her? ‘Sides, it’s not like blame is going to help sort her out now. She just needs medicine and a bit of time, that’s all chief.”

 

Bull nodded and cradled his forehead in the crook of his thumb and his fingers. “Yeah, you’re probably right. You weren’t quite yourself after I found you anyways. These things take time.”

 

“‘Course,” Krem began, scratching the top of his head, “I had help. You, the others. Takes that sort of stuff too right? You need someone else to get strong for, when you can’t do it for yourself. She needs more than a nurse.”

 

“Maybe you’ve got a point. I’ll talk to Cullen in the morning. See what he wants to do about it. Maybe he can set her up with a family in the hinterlands...refugees and whatnot.”

 

Krem gave him a incredulous look as he took another drink. “Yeah? Good plan chief.”

 

Then a tavern patron jostled Krem’s shoulder and invited him to a card game, which he politely accepted.

 

Bull rubbed his chin. The stubble was longer than he usually allowed. He needed to shave, but where to find the time. Wake up early? That sounded like a shit idea. The tavern suddenly seemed too big and too empty, even though most of the Chargers were there that night. Bull’s disinterest steadily grew into discomfort until he stood from his chair with a long sigh.

 

“Fuck it, I’ll talk to him now.”

 

Bull dropped his nearly full tankard on a table for someone else to enjoy and ducked out of the bar. Cold night air whipped across the clear yard, carrying with it fine beads of moisture, droplets from the melting snow and ice. A pair of borrowed Orlesian soldiers slipped past him presumably on their way to get drinks.

 

“Maker, it’s freezing out here. Doesn’t he ever wear a damned shirt?” one of them muttered under his breath, blowing into his hands to warm them.

 

Bull smirked to himself.

 

_You’re just jealous._

 

There was a faint glow in the commander's window, indicating he was still hard at work, or at the very least he had dozed off at his desk. Bull rapped on the door with two knuckles. Loud enough to be heard by an alert person, but not loud enough to wake someone who might be sleeping. Even Cullen needed his rest, and Bull knew if he woke him at his desk, he would insist on finishing his work rather than turn in for the night.

 

“Come in,” said the voice from within.

 

Bull ducked his head a smidge and pushed the door open. Cullen was reading some manner of report while simultaneously scribbling out a series of notes about rations and forge supplies.

 

“I can come back in the morning if you’d rather,” Bull offered, digging at the root of one of his horns.

 

“No, I’m nearly finished. What is it you need Iron Bull?”

 

Bull wandered into the office as if he had never been inside before. “Saw you got some new recruits in this morning.”

 

“Ayuh, yes, though I haven’t had much time to assess them as of yet, so I can’t say much about their ability level.”

 

“Saw one of them was tal-vashoth. Where did you find him?” Bull rolled his eye over Cullen’s face trying to gage his mood. He didn’t pick up much, he was too focused on his work.

 

Cullen briefly met Bull’s gaze before returning to his memo writing. “I don’t know if he is tal-vashoth in the sense that I have come to understand the word, but he is a Qunari as far as the word applies to race, yes. And he found us actually.”

 

“You sure that’s a good idea? We tend to make folks nervous.”

 

Cullen frowned. “From what I’ve seen Amaa-er...Arma...Armaarad is a fine recruit. Strong, experienced, and he has a good head on his shoulders. People have...more or les, accepted your presence here haven’t they?”

 

“More or less…”

 

“So he’ll prove his worth out there and comradery will follow. Works with Orlesians, works with elves, it’ll work just fine for Ama-Arma- it’ll work for him too. I’ll keep an eye on him if it will comfort you, but I have confidence he’ll turn out just fine.”

 

Bull shrugged. “So where did he come from anyways? He’s a little on the small side to be Par Vollen born. He’s got a damn nice rack though.”

 

Cullen raised a brow at Bull. “I believe his family came from Qundalon, I’m afraid I don’t know much more than that. And, I suppose he does have an impressive set of horns, if that is your sort of thing…”

 

Bull grinned at Cullen from ear to ear. “Nice legs too, you can tell when he-”

 

“Why all the interest Bull? Are you...looking to bed him? I’ll not be your in if that’s what you’re thinking.”

 

“You don’t have to be so jealous Cul, there’s plenty of me to go around, Don’t worry.”

 

“I _assume_ you came to talk about more than my recruits. What is it you want?” Cullen asked, setting his quill down. His cheeks were flushed past his usual ruddy Ferelden complexion.

 

“Yeah, yeah...just wanted your full attention first,” Bull said as he eased into a chair.

 

Cullen frowned. “Well you simply should have asked. You certainly have it now.”

 

“It’s the girl, from the tower…” Bull rubbed his chin, scratching at the stubble.

 

“Yes, what about her?”  

 

Bull sighed, his shoulders sagging hard. “She isn’t recovering. Not like we had hoped. Her injuries are healed but... She’s catatonic or something. She’s not getting better.”

 

“I see…” Cullen bit his lip and smoothed the fur of his coat. “Well, what do you think is wrong with her, aside from the obvious?”

 

“I think now that she isn't so focused on surviving, she has time to think about what she survived. She's in shock, or maybe denial, maybe both. Either way she’s dwelling on it. Probably playing it over and over in her head…”

 

“Yes, but-”

 

“We brought her here. You know what happens if we don’t take care of it right? This is on us.”

 

“I don’t deny that. What do you propose?”

 

Bull rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit. I was hoping you’d have a plan. Krem thinks we should find some Dalish, send her with them. Let them figure it out. Me...I don’t think all that moving around is good for her. She needs stability. Familiarity. I thought maybe we send her to a family in the hinterlands if we could.”

 

“I’m afraid that isn’t a possibility. The Inquisitor has barred her from leaving Skyhold,” Cullen muttered, rubbing his temples.

 

“Barred? She’s a prisoner here? That’s not exactly the boss’s style. I mean, just look at our good friend Thom Rainier.”

 

“The circumstances are...unique. You must understand, she can’t be left up to her own devices. Not until we can determine what she is. She could be dangerous. Especially if she falls into the wrong hands.

 

Bull raised his hand to cease Cullen’s onslaught of logic. “No no, you leash a serabass _before_ it hurts someone, not after. I understand. So what happens if she wants to leave the tent?”

 

“The Inquisitor has had a chamber made up for her. Previously Lady Morrigan’s quarters as I understand it. It should suit her just fine. They have been ready for some time but her nurse advised us against moving her by force so...”

 

“And if she doesn’t want to stay?”

 

“Then she will be made to…”

 

Deep furrows carved through Bull’s brow. “Cullen, that’s bullshit.”

 

“I’m only following orders.”

 

“Well they’re bullshit orders.”

 

“For now it isn’t a problem Let’s focus on what is. What can we do for the girl?”

 

Bull leant forwards, palms on his knees. His back ached with tension. “She needs more hands on care. Someone to be with her, talk to her, stimulate her. Keep her acting human. Well, you know what I mean…”

 

Cullen hummed thoughtfully and twiddled the corner of his parchment absentmindedly. “I could talk to the Inquisitor, it’s possible that we may be able to get a survivor of Haven or a refuge from the Hinterlands to move in and handle the girl. I’m sure there is some poor uprooted farm girl who would be happy to play nursemaid to a wild Dale.”

 

“That could take weeks. Months maybe. She can’t just languish until then.”

 

“I’m afraid that is the best I can do for now. Why don’t you look after her until we find someone more suitable?”

 

Bull coughed as if Cullen’s words had struck him in the chest. “Me?”

 

“Well,” Cullen began in an argumentative tone, “she seemed to respond to you in the woods. She was the least frightened of you in any case.”

 

“Cull, my days of helping tamasrins are well behind me. I’m a warrior now, that’s my place. I don’t-I can’t play nanny to some girl all damn day.”

 

Cullen smiled. “I’ll admit it is far from ideal, but the most effective contributors to the Inquisition wear many hats, so to speak.”

 

“So that’s really what you think we should do?”

 

“I think it is what we _can_ do Iron Bull.”

 

Bull grunted. He wanted to stand his ground on the matter but some nagging sensation in the back of his mind told him that wasn’t the right choice. “Fine. I’ll go see her. Evaluate her condition for myself, but you have to swear you’ll respect my judgement on the matter. If I say I can’t take her on, I mean it. Deal?”

 

Cullen smiled softly and his shoulders relaxed. “That certainly sounds fair. You have my solemn word, I swear by Andraste’s name, I will listen to your decision on the matter and I will back you with the Inquisitor.”

 

“Fine then. I’ll see you about it first thing in the morning then.”

 

“Doubtful,” Cullen mumbled, returning to his paperwork. “I’ll be up by first light. You don’t wake until first meal...but I doubt you’ll have trouble finding me all the same.”

 

Bull cracked a smile. “One of these days the wrong person is gonna catch that smart mouth of yours Cullen.”

 

“Goodnight Iron Bull,” he replied, indicating he had exceeded the allotted time for their conversation. The candle in his window didn’t go out until another hour had passed.           

 

*

 

When Bull got to the tent it was already dark. The nurse was likely getting ready to turn in for the night or tending to someone who was actually wounded, but the elf was awake. She was sitting up in the cot, face turned away from the entrance, gaze locked on nothing. She didn’t even turn her head when he entered.

“Hey little one, you remember me?”

 

Her body stiffened, but silence was all that greeted him.

 

“Alright, great.”

 

Bull steadily approached her bedside, straining to look her over in the dim light. After a while of her refusing to look at him, Bull knelt down and squeezed her hand. She flinched at his touch and Bull could feel the tremor of fear pass through her.

 

“It’s alright, stay calm. Shit you're cold. They're letting you sleep out here like this?”

 

Slowly her head turned in his direction. “Calm,” she whispered into the air without conviction.

 

Bull smiled slightly. “Yeah, that’s right, you remember?”

 

“Calm,” she said once more, this time meeting his gaze. “Dorf’len…”

 

“Don’t know what the shit that means but you’ve called me that twice now so, hope it’s not an insult. Guess we’re going to have to find someone to translate for you huh? Solas up and disappeared, and that Korcari woman is back in Orlais. I wonder in my mage can help...not that you’d be too happy to see any of those again.”

 

Bull patted her hand as gently as he could manage. “So how are you feeling?”

 

He smoothed her hair as he looked over her face. The swelling had mostly subsided and it was evident she still had a pretty face under all that bruising.

 

“Well, you look better at least. Finally getting to eat like normal.”

 

Bull sat himself on the ground beside the cot and looked over her hands. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m the Iron Bull. I run a mercenary company, Bull’s Chargers. Good group too. That kid that helped us out in the tower, the one with the darker hair, that’s Krem. He’s my second in command.”

 

As if suddenly coming back to herself, she squeezed on to his hand, grabbing only one good finger and the two remaining partial ones. Her eyes looked wild but touch seemed to keep her grounded for the moment.

 

“Guess this is the part where you’d tell me your name but...well, we’ll get there eventually yeah? Those notes Cullen found, they said your name was Mavra. Is that an elf name? Or did they give that to you in the tower I wonder..."

 

He sighed and patted her leg. “Listen to me, this is probably just a waste of time, better luck holding a conversation with Grim...”

 

The girl examined the stumped fingers then moved to a scar between his knuckles.

 

“I was right though, you understand this huh? Touch. Sure. Too bad it isn’t a bit more informative.”  

 

The Girl’s hand released his as she raised it upwards. She touched his neck, then his jaw, then his cheek. Her face didn’t betray any emotion but her eyes flickered with fascination and fear.  

 

“You’ve really never seen a Qunari huh? There aren’t that many of us this far south but Dalish move all over. Impressive huh? ‘Course, they aren’t all as good looking as me, and just look at this rack! It’s hardly fair really.” Bull laughed heartily, hand on his stomach.

 

The elf rubbed the stubble on his cheek, resulting in a dry scratching sound.

 

“Yeah yeah, I know, I gotta shave,” Bull grumbled. “That’s right, elves don’t have beards. Wonder if this is the first time you’ve ever felt one.”

 

She touched his lips, sending an uncomfortable tickle through them, then  the tip of his nose. As strange as it felt this was good. She was familiarizing herself with him. If he could win her trust they stood a better chance of helping her.

 

Suddenly she tugged on the crook of his horn.

 

“Ow, hey! Take it easy you brat, those don’t grow back.”

 

She smiled , or grimaced, some expression that involved the display of teeth.

 

_Sadistic little thing._

 

Bull laughed to himself as he closed his eye and leant his head into her hand, letting her palm cup his forehead. She held it there fore some time, her thumb sweeping back and forth over the jagged scar on his brow. A brief moment later he felt her fingers tugging at the leather strips of his eyepatch.

 

“Oy!” he bellowed, pulling her hand away. “That’s-that’s private. Tiny elf fingers off.”

 

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he had, and this had startled the girl. She began to fuss.        

               

“No,” she whimpered, trying to pull free of his grip. As she did, her hair, yet again a tangled mess, somehow became coiled around one of Bull’s horns.

 

“Hey, be careful you’re-you’re gonna lose an eye on one of these things. Stop wiggling!”

 

She yanked away and whined when her hair pulled. Bull did his best to hold his head still and disentangle her, but he only managed to ensnare his fingers instead. In turn she pulled at his fingers, her nails cutting into him.

 

“Hey, take it easy. Just, stay calm. Remember?”

 

Bull held her hands in his until she became still.

 

“That’s it, nice and easy,” he cooed. “I swear, you’re like a wild horse…”

 

She managed to remain still while he unlooped her hair and only whined once when it caught on the jagged keratin.

 

“See, I told you, if you’d just hold still…”

 

Bull pulled back and saw that she had scratched herself in her struggling. A faint trickle of blood leaked from under her eye and ran down her cheek.

 

“Damn,” Bull sighed.

 

“Everything alright in there Sir?” asked the guard posted outside.

 

“Yeah, fucking great,” he grumbled. He groaned as he stood up, almost forgetting to duck his head. He brushed the dirt off his trousers disinterestedly then offered the girl his hand.          

 

“Well come on then.”

 

She looked at him, leary and confused.

 

“I’m not going to leave you here all night with a bleeding face and your hair all over the place like that. That nurse of yours is liable to mount my head in the great hall.”

 

Bull wasn’t sure if the girl had understood him, but she did take his hand, and after some mild coaxing, she followed him out of the cot.

 

“Looks like you more or less trust me. Sister Nightingale would advise against that. I guess it’ll be Divine Nightingale soon though.”

 

The elf was in a night dress, rough spun and plain. The sleeves came to her fingertips and the hem brushed against the ground.

 

“Did they leave you anything besides that?” Bull wondered aloud, looking around for a change of clothes. Undergarments, lambswool stockings, and a simple green and blue tartan dress. It was worn and a little frayed at the bottom, but not threadbare. Probably donated for the refugees. Bull didn’t see any shoes laying out and he assumed they hadn’t been able to find any small enough just yet.  The robe krem had hemmed up had been repaired, washed, and folded up with her other clothes. Bull tucked all of this into the blanket on the cot, bundled it up, and tossed it over his shoulder like a tramp’s pack.

 

“Come on little one. Let’s get you sorted.”

 

Bull took her hand once more and pulled her towards the entryway and she slowly began to stumble in that direction.         

 

"Right, first, how about we get you into a hot bath. Get that mess of curls under control. Then I'll show you where you can sleep. Cullen had them make up a room. Probably lacking a woman’s touch, like him, but it should do just fine."

 

To Bull's surprise, the girl nodded.

 

Bull grinned. "Knew you understood us. I damn knew it. Cullen can eat my-uh...nevermind. This way little one."

 

Bull ducked out of the tent, girl in tow, and the guard standing watch snapped to attention.

 

"Sir?" he questioned, "Are you sure she is allowed to leave? I'm supposed to watch her and make sure she doesn't-"

 

"Relax, spoke to Cullen about it. She's safe with The Iron Bull watching her."

 

"Uh, well, if you say so sir. I'll um, I'll report to my capitan then."

 

A good few of Cullen's men were more than a fair bit intimidated by him on any given day. His size, his strength, his race, plenty to be afraid of. The soldier posted at the tent seemed the nervous type already, and it was obvious he was wary of Bull, but more than that, he was afraid. Afraid of the girl. He backed away from her as she passed by, nearly tripping over one of the tent stakes just to get some distance from her.

 

_Just what have they been telling people about this girl? Is there something I don't know about?_

 

As they passed the walkway to the keep proper, Scout Harding approached them from the opposite way.

 

"Charging Bull coming through," she called out to him.

 

Bull chuckled. "Harding, almost didn't see you down there. Lucky I didn't step on you. Hate to have to clean my boots again."

 

"Scout remember? Not being seen is the point," she asserted with a laugh, then looked over at the elf.   

 

"Really Bull, stealing the women from their beds now are you?" she playfully chided him.

 

"Nah, it's not like that. This is the girl from Erath tower, the one Rocky was telling you about."

 

"The one that ate the whole tower?"

 

"She didn't _eat_ the tower. The ground ate the tower...she just probably sort of caused it..."

 

"Ah-well it's nice to meet you there miss, um..."

 

"She's--She's a bit like Grim. She doesn't talk much. We don't know her name exactly."

 

"Oh, well, I'm sure you'll figure something out sooner or later. Don't sweat it kid! You could just call her Da'len for now I suppose."

 

"Da'len?"

"I think that's the elvish phrase the keeper uses when calling the younger elves. That's your job right? You're her keeper?" Harding asked with a playful smile.

 

The girl's ears seemed to perk at the word. She definitely recognized it.

 

"Da'len...that work for you? Da'len?"

 

The girl tightened her grip on his hand and nodded.

 

"Alright, Da'len for now then. Thanks Harding."

 

"No problem. Nice to meet you Da'len," Harding said, extending her hand.

 

The elf made no move to take it.

 

Bull laughed softly. "She's a little lacking in her social graces. We're gonna work on that.”

 

Harding giggled. “She’s just shy, new place, so many new people. She’ll come around. Hope you feel better soon Da’len. See ya around.” And with that she tottered off towards the gates.

 

Bull entered the Herald’s Rest, elf trailing behind him, and for a fair while turned the heads of no one. Bull’s horns jutting through the tavern doorway had become such a mundane sight no one no longer paid it any mind. The scrawny wild haired girl by his side however, was not so normal.

 

“Oy, what are you doing?” the head tavern girl called out, her hands holding two tankards of ale each. “This ain’t no place for no bairns ox man.”

 

Bull held up a hand defensively. “I know, I know, but hear me out. She needs a bath is all.”

 

“That right? And why ‘ere exactly?”

 

“‘Cause I’m gonna take one too, and you’ve got the big tub Lailah. Two birds, one stone yeah?”

 

“We’ll pinch my arse and call me Andraste, the ox man is having two in the same week? Cecilia you ‘ere that? Ox man wants a bath. Draw it up for him,” Lailah called to a younger barmaid who was bustling around with a tray of drinks.

 

“Yes ma’am,” she chirped back, serving the drinks and hustling towards the back.

 

“So where the bloody hell did she come from? She Dalish?”

 

“Erath tower. Yeah she’s Dalish,” Bull answered, scanning the room for his lieutenant.

 

“That’s ‘er? So small. Thought those dales only marked ‘em when they got old enough?”

 

“Yeah we’re not sure about that either.”

 

“And why exactly is she with you then? You ain’t gonna try anything funny with her are ye?”

 

“No,” Bull shot back with a glare. “She’s confused right now. They did some pretty awful stuff to her. She needs a little help is all. There is no way I would ever-”

 

“Relax ox man,” Lialah backpedaled. “I know ye wouldn’t think to hurt no wee girl like that. For all your roughness, we know yer as gentle as a lamb. Could get Ceceilia to bather ‘er though if ye like.”

 

“Thought about that but, she bites, hard. Easy enough for an old ox man to take but might be a tad rough on a tender young barmaid.”

 

The girl was clinging to his arm so tightly Bull could feel the tips of her fingers beginning to bruise his skin. He didn’t shake her loose but rather tucked her under his arm. She laid her head against his ribs and he could feel her frightened breathing blow over his chest.

 

Lailah wiped down a vacant table. “Aye, she does need all her fingers. Would like to keep ‘em just as well I suppose. We’ll leave ‘er to you then. Just let me know if ye need a woman’s touch in there,” she offered with a wink.

 

“You know I will Lailah,” Bull laughed out.

 

It wasn’t until Lailah walked off to fetch more drinks that Krem, notably a bit drunker, noticed Bull had returned.

 

“Hey chief! I was just tellin’ the boys about the time that you-Hey, why did you bring her here?”

 

Bull grumbled a string of Qunlat curses under his breath. “It’s your fault she’s here.”

 

“Whot? My fault?” Krem bellowed, wiping spilled ale from his chin.

 

“You’re the one who said she needed someone to look after her, someone to get strong for. It’s your fault for making so much damn sense. Who’s teaching you crap like that anyways?”

 

“For fuck’s sake, why you chief?”  

 

“She can’t leave Skyhold.”

 

“Right, but why _you_? Why not some scullery girl or some such? This whole thing was Cullen’s idea. It ought to be him what’s looking after her.”

 

Bull grunted and shook his head. “Cullen is still the Commander here. Even with Sister Nightingale set to take the sunburst throne things are far from stable and the Inquisition will be running for at least a year or two more if not longer. They need Cullen at the Helm of this thing, the people trust him. Respect him. Besides, war might be over but all the servants here are bound to be busier than ever. Everyone has more down time but them. Especially us. Haven’t you noticed?”

 

“I-uh...well, when you put it like that...so what, she’s a Charger now?”

 

“What? No, no...she’s just stuck with us till Cullen can figure something else out or till the Boss says she can go. She just needs a little looking after. It's just for a bit.”

 

Krem snickered.

 

“What?” Bull growled.

 

“You! The fiercest warrior in the whole bloody Inquisition, feared mighty Qunari, stuck playing mother hen to a pint sized Dalish! Sorry chief but this _has_ to be proof that Andraste has a sense of humor!”

 

“Yeah yeah, we’ll see who is laughing come drills tomorrow morning. Hey you seen Skinner or Dalish around?”

 

“No sir, off having girl time I guess.”

 

“Oh that's just perfect,” Bull sighed. “Well, let the boys know I wanna see Dalish first thing tomorrow. I hope she still knows her own language.”

 

“Still not talking is she?”

 

“Nah, about the same. She’s pretty coherent though. I think she almost spoke to Harding. We’re calling her Da’len now. I think it’s an Elvish term of endearment.”

 

“You _think_?”

 

“Well, Harding seemed sure. Hey, watch her will you? Gotta grab a few things from up top.”

 

“What? Chief, I-”

 

“Just for a minute. I gotta shave…”

 

Bull’s knee ached a bit as he climbed the stairs and creaked at least twice as much. A sure sign a wet spring was on its way.

 

His room was dark, the only light coming through from a high window. They had finally repaired the caved in roof and punched in walls. It had taken weeks and Bull hadn’t been on board with the idea at the time, but when winter came Bull began to appreciate it. The room was in its usual state of disarray, just the way he liked it, but with the rubble cleared from the place there was now room for a bit more furniture. Not that he particularly needed it. An Avvar chair of antlers, wood, and bone, brought back from the Fallow Mire. It’s massive size made it a perfect fit for him, but it could stand to be more comfortable. There was a sturdy table which was mostly used to hold bottles of wine and occasionally food, but it could be used for writing letters if one felt so inclined. A wardrobe stood against the right wall. Bull had to jimmy the door open as it hung at an angle and bowed inwards. He had drunkenly fallen into it one night and the damn thing had been a pain to open ever since. It was fairly empty save for a few articles of clothing, a nice warhammer he had taken a liking to, and his shaving kit.

The kit was plain, just an old cracked piece of tanned leather rolled up to hold brushes and lather and a razor. It was worn and made useful beyond its years, but Bull felt he couldn’t be bothered to buy a new one. Bull felt the razor’s edge. The blade was old but meticulously kept. Not the best tool for cutting thick curly elf hair but it was a start.

 

Bull pulled the door closed behind him and looked out over the tavern. Sera nor Cole were in the tavern tonight. With Corypheus gone Sera was more apt to come and go as she pleased, but Cole’s routine hadn’t particularly changed, so it was unusual they were both gone. Bull hoped they weren’t out somewhere together causing trouble. Or at least not too much trouble.

 

“Squirrely kids,” he chuckled to himself as he headed back down.

 

“Mr. Iron Bull, your bath is ready,” called Cecilia. “Left all the dry linens we had. Between your size and all her hair, you're going to need them.”

              

“Yeah, plan on doing something about that,”

 

“What? Cut it? Oh no, don’t do that! It’s so rare a girl gets to grow her hair so long these days...it would be such a waste…”

 

“Well right now it’s a pain so…”

 

“Well...I left you a comb and some toiletries to use all the same.” Cecilia shook her head disapprovingly and sighed before walking off to fetch more drinks.

 

Bull shuffled his way past the crowded bar and into the back room where the baths were to be found. There were three separate bath stalls, two smaller than the third. The biggest stall held a much larger bath, which might have been a cattle trough, or build specifically for Bull, he wasn’t sure which. Bull gathered up the linens and sat the girl on a stool before closing and latching the door. The air was warm and steamy, and for a brief moment it reminded him of sea side nights on Seheron. But the floor was wrong and the walls were wrong and Bull was glad for the wrongness.

 

Bull bent down and dipped his fingers into the bath.

 

“Shit,” he hissed, jerking his hand back. “Too hot.”

 

Deciding to wait on the bath, Bull removed his harness and tossed it aside before unrolling his shaving kit. He positioned himself in front of the small grubby mirror and for a moment he contemplated admiring his reflection but decided he was too tired and got to business instead. Bull whipped up the lather and used the brush to swipe it over his face.

 

“Bet your head is spinning huh Da’len. All that time in a cage in that tower, existing in just so many feet, and now we can’t seem to keep you in one spot for more than a few minutes. And we wonder why you’re confused.”

 

“Ma dirth ir dorf’len. Mah is ahnsul ar ame nedan,” The girl replied, tucking her feet up onto the stool and leaning back into the corner.

 

“Well, at least you’re trying. You’ll get it eventually. Probably.”

 

Once he was painted up Bull removed the razor and began to cut into the coarse black stubble.

 

“Wonder what the boss thinks about you...I mean, what is he going to do? Conscript you into the Inquisition? Life in prison because you’re weird? I doubt it. I mean, Cole has weird in spades and Volantis likes him just fine. Solas was a little off too and he tolerated him alright. Point is the boss isn’t exactly picky about the company he keeps. He cares about usefulness. Will you be useful to the Inquisition after they study you?”      

 

She was silent.

 

Then Bull saw a flash of white in the corner of the mirror that was the the girl’s night dress fluttering to the ground. Before Bull could even turn around there was a soft splashing sound of water folding in against skin as she stepped into the tub.  

 

“Hey, Da’len, the water is too hot! You’re going to scald yourself, get out!”

 

But the girl had already lowered herself in. She sunk as deep as she could into the steaming water which rose all the way over her chest.

 

“Hey, isn’t that hot little one? You don’t want to get burned…” Bull mumbled coming closer.

 

But the girl seemed nothing but content with the water. Her green eyes danced in the flicker of the yellow lamp light as she stared up at him and her hair spread out across the water’s surface like spilt pitch.

 

Bull shrugged. “Alright, fine. Boil like a turnip. See if I care.”

 

Bull shaved a few curls of jasmine scented soap into the water and returned to his grooming. He watched her reflection in the mirror but she did very little. She wiped her face and neck and combed fingers through her hair, as drowsy as a dormouse.

 

And for a good while things were warm and pleasant and peaceful. Bull finished shearing his unwanted hair while humming to himself. The melody of a drinking song from Kirkwall he had heard Varric teaching to Maryden. He managed to finish without nicking himself and he was suddenly in a much better mood. He washed both his face and his razor clean before taking up purchase on the stool the elf had vacated.

 

“Were you born somewhere warm?” he asked her as he removed his boots. “Is that why you have such a chill? Guess if you were from somewhere cold you’d like your bath nice and hot though wouldn’t you? It’s really hot where I’m from so this ice and snow crap is just great, but...I dunno, I guess I feel like we’re doing good work here. Stopped the sky from shitting out demons. Mostly.”

 

The girl appeared to be listening intently.               

 

Bull removed his trousers and tossed them aside as well. "Well let's get your hair combed out. Then when it drys up a bit we'll cut it."

 

The elf slid up against the far side of the tub and scrunched down even lower. "Inana mar da'laven, dorf'lin," she hissed.

 

Bull picked up on the sharpness in her tone and eased down to the ground. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you."

 

Up close Bull could see the various traumas that still marred her body. They had been indistinguishable from one another before. She had been one large injury then. But now Bull could see all the pain that had been embedded in her skin. The grain of rope, the curve of unkind fingers, the crescent moons of teeth across her torso. But even now it was fading. Slowly becoming memory.

Bull spoke to her, calming words. Droning on about Par Vollen. The whole while as Bull talked to her, he thought she was making good eye contact, until he realized she was actually just fixated on his eye patch.

 

"You're pretty fascinated by this thing huh? That's kinda morbid you know. A more self conscious person might take offense to that."

 

"Min nuem is tuast em. Laimen inan thu, ma ane Elvar'nas? Ane ma tel?"

 

Bull’s lips twitched in a smile. She was having a conversation with him. She understood every fuckin word he said. _He_ was the one in the dark. "You remember I was telling you about Krem? I lost this eye helping him."

 

The elf cocked her head to the side and toyed with the notch in her ear as if she were thinking hard on his words. "Ahsul halani sa shemlen? Ahn ma gara ar onhar..."

 

"I’ll tell you about it if you like. Krem was...well you see in Tevinter they don't let women serve in the military. At least, not as soldiers. Krem was born a woman but he wasn't supposed to be...Or didn’t want to be maybe, that’s his business. His parents tolerated it alright and eventually Krem took up the blade to provide for his mother. When the other soldiers found out he was in a lot of trouble.”

 

The elf nodded slowly. She didn't flinch away when Bull reached for her hair this time. She allowed him to wash it out with the tonic left by Cecilia. It was made with ash natron and vetch, and roses. Rose powder, rose water, it was positively packed with roses.

 

_Roses._

 

Cassandra would be having a good laugh at his expense right about now. But the sent suited the girl. Those were rose thorns under her skin afterall.  

 

“They hunted him down. Probably were going to execute him, provided they didn't kill him on their way back. Saw them working him over pretty bad and...I don't know. I just thought "Alright, that's enough of that crap," and I rushed in. I took a blow from a flail meant for him. I guess I didn't see how bad it was going to land, Or maybe I just didn't care at that point, but that was that. Eye gone. Worth it though. A hand is more valuable than an eye, and Krem is a pretty good right hand.”

 

After Bull rinsed the tonic from her hair he took up a pumice stone and began to scrub her down. She seemed to rather enjoy that part, even lifting her feet out of the water so Bull could soften her heels. Was she simply used to being pampered? Or had she been entirely mollycoddled by someone? Maybe Krem had been right. Maybe she really was some magister’s precious pet.  

 

“Not to mention, that bold heroic crap tends to breed loyalty. Couldn't ask for a better man at my side. When I finally bite the big one I know my Chargers will be in good hands."

 

“Krem. Char-gers,” the girl toyed with the words in her mouth. The syllables came out hard and slightly syncopated, but not necessarily wrong.

 

“That’s right. Krem and the Chargers,” Bull encouraged her as he pulled her from the tub.

 

She wrung out her hair on her own, and Bull wrapped her in the warmed linens left by the barmaid, but she dried herself.

 

“Well alright then. You do it if you want,” Bull mumbled as he lowered himself into the tub. The hot water felt good, even if it did make him smell of roses. He had been more tense than he realized. He leaned against the tub’s edge, letting his legs hang off the side, and folded his arms behind his head.

 

“How did you take the water bein’ so hot? I’m already sweating.”

 

“Ise'un man fra alastarasyl. Min aron ma’ arla,” she answered him.

 

Bull shrugged and closed his eye to relax.

 

“Shit. That cold ale sounds good now…”

 

The room was quiet save for the drip of water hitting stone and the occasional rustle of the linens from the girl. If Bull had only been a bit drunk, he would have fallen asleep.

 

“They say steam is good for your skin right? It’s good for your breathing too…”

 

Then there was a hand pressed to his chest. His eye flicked open to find that the girl had stripped her linens and was kneeling by the tub.

 

“What exactly are you up to then?” Bull asked her, uncrossing his arms.

 

As if to answer him she cupped the water in her hand and let it trickle over his chest.

 

“Oh I see, it’s my turn then is it?” Bull chuckled and rested his elbows on the edge of the tub.

 

She repeated the water sprinkling several times before taking up the pumice stone. Her hands were tentative at first, but soon she was scrubbing away at him as if he were the scullery floor.

 

Bull grunted when she caught some particularly sensitive skin. “You’re a rough little thing,” he growled.

 

As expected she didn’t answer, she simply tugged him forward by the horn and began to work on his back.

 

Bull shuddered. “Ah, now _that_ feels good…”

 

And it did feel rather nice. The scratch of the pumice stone over coarse skin, the pressure against his tired muscles. Maybe he ought to bathe more often after all.  

 

She scrubbed the back of his neck and washed behind his ears. His tama would have been pleased. She didn’t neglect to wash his feet either, she was surprisingly thorough. It seemed she was accustomed to service such as this, at least to some extent. Having no hair to wash, she ran out of things to clean, and she became rather bored of the whole affair soon after. She gazed almost starry eyed at the far wall as she slowly stirred her fingers through the water.

 

Taking advantage of her stillness Bull gathered up the jar of fine oil and comb, also lent to him by the barmaid, and set about the task of making her presentable.The comb caught each tiny tangle along its way, and Bull would have to stop and pick it out, only to have it stuck again a few seconds later. However, she bore the discomfort without much fuss, and bit by bit, her hair began to fall into loose waves. He was then able to use long meticulous pulls. He combed the sections over and over, slowly working up a lustrous shine. Her curls now cast off delicate hues of blue and green, like a raven’s feather in the sunlight.

 

“Well now, that has to feel better huh?” Bull asked her, trying to shake loose the many strands of shed hair that clung to his hands.

 

She worked her own fingers through it, then she smiled at him.

 

“Ma serannas,” she whispered, winding a curl around one of her fingers.

 

Bull felt something soft flutter about in his guts and couldn’t help but to smile back at her.

 

“You like that then?” he asked her. “It’s a damn lot to manage though. Hold still, I’ll trim it down…”

 

Bull leant over the tub, retrieved his razor, then gathered up a handful of her hair. She wasn’t paying him much mind but upon seeing the razor she screamed.

 

“No! Prear’tel! Dera’tel!”   

 

“What? What’s the matter?”

 

The girl slapped away his hand and attempted to pull her hair free from his grasp.

 

Bull struggled to keep the girl in hand and the blade out of reach. He did not relinquish her hair so easily however.

 

“Hey now, hold still, you’re going to make me cut you. Just let me-”

 

But then there were teeth clamping down on tendons, and something sharp dug into his nail beds. More from the shock than the pain, Bull dropped the razor. He waited to hear if clatter to the floor, but no such sound came. There was a scuffle, but Bull couldn’t maintain his balance in the water as well as she could on solid ground. She scrambled to his left side, just behind him. and then there was the cold of metal pressed to his throat.   

 

The razor was in her hand. He felt the sting of it biting into his flesh as her hand trembled. Bull drew in a short breath. He still had her hair. A good jerk, he could pull her off balance, get her neck over the tub’s edge, and apply pressure. She might cut him up a bit before she lost consciousness but-

 

But her voice stopped his thoughts.

 

“I said no!” she shouted, in perfect common. “I may be your prize elvar’nas, but this does not belong to you.”

 

_What the fuck did she just say?_

 

Bull thought for a moment, then slowly raised his hands in compliance. “Easy there Da’len. You don’t want your hair cut, I won’t cut it. Now could you pay me the same respect in regards to my neck?”

 

She didn’t move. She didn’t want to cut him, she was simply frightened.

 

Bull uncurled his fingers and let the girl’s hair slip free. “It’s ok, you have my word. Just put that thing down.”

 

“Min is tarsul. No more. You do not take this from me demon,” She ordered. Her knuckles were turning white, but her trembling had lessened.

 

“No more.”

 

Her arm shifted, then fell slack all together. The razor skid across the damp stones and the girl backed away from Bull, who was still half turned over in the water. He righted himself, contemplated standing, but then decided he had best wait.

 

“I knew you understood me the whole time. Didn’t suspect that you could actually answer me back though. Good play.”

 

The girl stood up, picked up one of the pails the water had been heated in, and refreshed the water in the bath, as if to make amends for her threatening his life.“Ar hartha’tel la’var son elvar’nas.”

 

Bull frowned. “Come on, you just spoke common didn’t you? I know what I heard...you called me a fucking demon too. What the crap is that about?”

 

She wrapped the linen back around herself and returned to her perch on the stool. She stared down at the floor for some time, then she uttered several half words, as if her capacity for language had left her completely.

 

Bull cast her several concerned glances as he finished up his bathing then turned the tub over into the drain.  

 

“The man in the room...he told me...venuralasma' sal'in! Ra nuem!”

 

The girl whimpered and clawed at her scalp, clearly in pain.

 

“Hey,” Bull said soothingly, taking up one of the dry linens and wrapping it around his waist. “Relax. Take your time da’len. You don’t have to get it all out at once.”

 

Tears welled in her eyes, and she fought them hard, but, as it so often is with tears, it was a losing battle. Bull touched her shoulder and without warning she flung herself into his arms. Her legs gave and she collapsed against him. Unprepared and ill equipped for such a scenario, Bull found he could do little more than catch the girl and lower her safely to her knees.

 

She wept with haggard ugly sobs, all but screaming against his shoulder. Bull grimaced. Her pain was practically palpable. He rocked her against his chest gently, unable to find any words that might end her outburst or lessen its duration He held her there until she cried herself into a deep, death-like sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me so far, I know it is torture when you're waiting for a fic to update. Hope to finish the next chapter before next Christmas lol


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